THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 
P.  Lennox  Tierney 


CAPTAIN     RALPH. 


A    SEQUEL    TO 

BEATRICE    HALLAM, 


BY  JOHN   ESTEN   COOKE, 


AUTHOR     OF 


SURRY     OF     EAGLES     NEST,"     "MOHUN,"     "HILT 
TO   HILT,"   ETC.,    ETC. 


NEW    YORK: 

COPYRIGHT,  1892,  BT 

G.    W.   Dillingham,    Publisher^ 

SUCCESSOR  TO  G.  W.  CARLETON  &  Co. 
MDCCCXCIJ, 


C-n 


CAPTAIN  RALPH. 


CHAPTER    I. 

«1GW  CAPTAIN  WATERS  THREATENED  LANKY    WITH  THK  BASTI 
NADO  EF  HE  SIGHED. 

SINCE  the  events  we  have  related,  more  than  a  year  has 
passed. 

March,  1765,  has  come. 

We  cannot  pause  here  to  narrate  those  important  politi 
cal  events,  which  marked  the  period  between  the  winter  of 
1  763  and  the  spring  of  1 765  :  but  in  the  course  of  our  history, 
the  resu'_j  of  those  events  will  unfold  themselves  and  rise 
co  view,  as  the  coral  reef  long  growing  beneath  the  ocean  and 
unseen,  raises  at  last  its  dangerous  wall  above  the  waves- 
events  which  made  more  noise  than  breakers :  upon  which 
lordlier  ships  were  shattered,  than  ever  strewed  the  fatal 
coasts  of  Madagascar. 

In  place  of  regaling  the  reader  with  an  historical  disqui 
sition,  we  shall  proceed  to  relate  the  adventures  which  befell 
the  personages  of  our  narrative,  after  the  violent  denouement 
in  which,  as  in  a  huge  vortex,  so  many  of  the  dramatis  per- 
eonae  were  swallowed  up 

S37505 


6  HOW    CAPTAIN   WATERS   THREATENED   LANKY 

March  has  come  again  into  the  world,  as  that  merry 
month  promises  to  come  in  all  future  times  • — with  wind,  and 
rainy  gusts,  and  chill  moonshiny  nights,  and  flowers  peeping 
from  the  sod  looking  for  April,  and  their  close-friend  the  gen 
tle  May.  The  earth  smiles  again,  and  begins  to  forget  the 
snow  and  ice  : — the  days  are  growing  warm  again,  but  fires 
are  still  far  from  uncomfortable.  So  at  least  thought  a 
military  gentleman,  who  warmed  his  hands  listlessly  by  a 
cheerful  blaze,  on  the  day  at  which  we  have  now  arrived. 

Captain  Ralph  Waters  sits  in  that  room,  of  the  old  fisher 
man's  mansion,  which  listened  in  the  winter  of  '63,  to  the 
narrative  of  his  adventures.  The  room  is  very  little  changed 
— the  Captain  scarcely  more.  He  is  as  handsome  and  mar 
tial-looking  as  ever — his  moustache  is  as  long  and  as  black 
— his  face  as  open  and  careless — his  sword  clatters  as  gayly, 
and  his  spurs  jingle  as  serenely  as  before.  Perhaps  it  is 
not  exactly  correct  in  us  to  say,  that  his  face  is  as  care 
less  as  ever  : — for,  though  there  is  no  absolute  cate  upon 
the  martial  countenance,  there  is  a  decided  expression  of 
ennui. 

The  worthy  soldier  stretches  out  his  legs,  draws  a  long 
breath  from  the  bottom  of  his  stalwart  chest — and  yawns 
portentously :  he  then  twirls  his  moustache,  endeavoring  to 
give  it  the  warlike  and  gallant  curl  toward  the  eye,  but  the 
moustache  rebels,  as  if  it  were  weary,  like  its  master,  and 
persists  in  curling  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  Captain,  after  several  attempts  to  coerce  the  rebel 
lious  ornament,  submits  and  yawns  again. 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  says,  addressing  his  hat  and  cloak 
which — hanging  on  a  nail, — bear  no  bad  resemblance  to 
an  exceedingly  thin  gentleman,  walking  on  the  air, — "  the 
fact  is,"  says  the  Captain  sighing,  "  I  am  going  to  pieces 
here,  like  a  ship  cast  upon  the  shore  and  falling  away,  tim 
ber  after  timber.  My  good  spirits  are  leaving  me,  parbleu ! 
— I  am  dying  of  ennui." 

And  having  made  this  communication  to  the  hat  and 
cloak,  he  relapses  into  silence  for  a  moment. 

"  I  really  think  that  I  will  set  out,  and  go  and  find  mon 
bon  pere,  and  Charley,  and  Beatrice,  in  their  mountain 
home.  I  have  not  seen  them,  hilf  himmel !  since  last  fall : 
— they  talk  about  something  they  call  '  Springs,'  up  there, 


WITH   THE   BASTINADO   IP   H.E   SIGHED.  7 

and  its  benefiting  Beatrice's  cold  !  All  nonsense  !  I  assert 
that  there  is  nothing  in  them,  for  they  did  me  no  good,  what 
soever  ! " 

And  having  thus  floored  his  imaginary  opponent  in  de 
bate,  and  proved  that  the  medicinal  baths  were  folly,  the 
soldier  again  paused. 

"  I  wonder  where  that  farcical  fellow  Lanky  is,"  con 
tinues  the  Captain,  again  attacking  his  moustache,  "  he  makes 
me  die  a-laughing,  with  his  opinions  upon  love  and  all  that. 
I  fancy,  however,  that  Miss  Smith  has  not  been  enlightened 
on  her  admirer's  real  sentiments  yet." 

And  the  Captain  smiles. 

"  Heigho  !  "  he  adds,  again  yawning,  "  what  the  devil  is 
come  to  me !  I  am  expiring  of  ennui — I  am  becoming  fat,  I 
really  believe — I  have  no  longer  any  muscles  !  " 

And  to  test  the  reality  of  his  fears,  the  Captain  draws 
his  hanger,  and  makes  half  a  dozen  furious  lunges  at  the 
cloak,  which  suffers  considerably. 

"  I'm  as  strong  as  ever."  he  adds,  with  a  sigh,  "  I  must 
go  and  find  somebody  to  quarrel  with,  or  ventre  du  pape  ! 
I  shall  die." 

At  the  same  moment  Lanky  Lugg  enters — clad  nearly 
as  we  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  on  a  former  occasion, 
and  wiping  his  face  with  an  exceedingly  dirty  sleeve.  Lanky's 
feet  are  perhaps  larger  than  ever,  his  hands  more  like  reap 
ing  hooks,  his  head  more  like  a  pine  knot,  than  ever  it  has 
been  at  any  previous  time.  But  there  are  some  changes 
observable  in  the  gentleman.  His  stockings  are  more  orna 
mental  than  before,  his  clothes  less  ragged,  his  gait  more 
proud  and  impressive.  When  he  bows  his  head  from  north 
east  to  south-west,  he  presents  the  appearance  of  a  man 
darin  figure  fillipped  by  the  finger  of  a  child. 

As  Lanky  enters,  the  Captain  makes  a  terrific  lunge  at 
him,  the  sword's  point  only  stopping  within  an  inch  of  his 
breast : — at  which  horrible  circumstance,  Lanky  starts  back 
in  profound  terror,  and  looks  at  his  master  with  astonished 
eyes. 

The  Captain  bursts  into  a  laugh. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  mon  garym  I "  he  says,  I  am  onlj 
taking  a  little  exercise." 


8  HOW    CAPTAIN    WATERS   THREATENED 

But  the  explanation  does  not  satisfy  Lanky,  who  keep! 
at  a  safe  and  respectful  distance,  scratching  his  head. 

"  Lanky,"  says  the  Captain,  "  I  am  dying  of  weariness." 

Lanky  is  unimpressed. 

"  Come,  give  me  a  little  advice,  you  rascal !  Oh  !  you 
are  afraid  of  my  toasting  iron,  are  you?  Well,  here  it 
goes." 

And  the  Captain  throws  away  the  sword,  which  falls  with 
a  tremendous  clatter  upon  the  table.  This  reassures  his 
companion,  and  obedient  to  his  master's  sign,  he  sits  down 
in  the  chimney  corner. 

"  I  am  getting  tired  of  life,  Lanky,"  resumes  the  Captain 
"existence,  parbleu !  seems  to  me  not  worth  having,  so  to 
speak.  Come,  give  me  your  views.  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"I  never  thinks  about  nothin',  Cap'n,"  says   Lanky; 


;<  Never  think  !  " 

"  I  does  sometimes — yes,  I  does,"  adds  Lanky,  correct 
ing  himself. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  ?     Of  Donsy  Smith,  I'll  wager." 

Lanky  draws  himself  up  like  an  emperor. 

"  I  ain't  seen  that  young  'ooman  lately,  Cap'n,"  he  saya. 

"  Have  you  quarrelled  ?  " 

"  No,  Cap'n." 

"  How  then  ?  " 

"Parted." 

And  Lanky  groans. 

"  Lanky,  you  are  getting  into  bad  spirits,"  says  the  Cap 
tain,  "  I  shall  not  permit  that,  Diable  !  if  we  are  both  down, 
what  will  become  of  us  ?  " 

Lanky  nods  his  head,  with,  a  sigh. 

"  Don't  sigh,  you  rascal — I  will  not  allow  it :  no  retainer 
of  mine  shall  sigh  on  pain  of  the  bastinado." 

Lanky  apparently  does  not  understand  this  rhetorical 
paraphrase. 

"  Take  a  slice  of  bacon,  and  a  mug  of  beer,  and  get  your 
spirits  again,"  continues  the  Captain. 

Lanky  assents  to  this,  and  is  soon  munching  and  drink 
ing. 

"  Now  advise  me,  animal !  "  says  the  Captain,  "  egad  I  I 
am  perfectly  emmye,"  and  the  soldier  yawns 


WITH   THE   BASTINADO    .F   HE    SIGHHO.  9 

"  S'pose  jou  fall  in  love,  Cap'n,"  says  Lanky,  with  hw 
mouth  full 

The  Captain  greets  this  suggestion  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  cannot,"  he  replies. 

"  You  ain't  tried." 

"  Have  you  ?  " 

«  Yes,  sur." 

"  And  successfully  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Cap'n." 

"  Miss  Smith,  eh  ?  " 

"  Miss  Smith  and  me,  is  'most  quit — "  says  Lanky,  wo 
fully. 

"  But  she  was  the  object  of  your  affections  ?  " 

Lanky  nods,  wofully. 

"  I  think  then,  I  shall  follow  your  advice,"  says  his  mas 
ter,  "  and  as  you  are  a  man  of  taste,  I  will  adopt  your  own 
sweetheart.'* 

Lanky  starts. 

"  Rather  a  pretty  girl,  too,"  says  the  Captain,  caressing 
the  midnight  fringe  upon  his  upper  lip. 

"  Oh,  Cap'n !  "  Lanky  observes,  overcome  with  horror. 

The  soldier  bursts  into  laughter. 

"  Well,  well  1 "  he  says,  "  don't  fear :  we  shall  not  prob 
ably  be  rivals — but  don't  be  too  well  assured.  Let  us  now 
dismiss  the  subject,  and  on  this  fine  March  morning,  lay  out 
some  plan  for  amusement." 

Lanky  reflects. 

"  There's  the  races  sir,  near  Jeamston,"  he  says  soon. 

"  But  they're  a  month  or  so  off.  Now  in  a  month  I 
shall  die,  at  the  present  rate.  Something  eke,  parbleu ! 
mon  ami ! " 

"  S'pose  you  take  a  ride,  Cap'n  I  ne^er  see  a  day  bet 
ter  for't." 

The  Captain  yawns. 

"  Well,"  he  says,  "  I  believe  I  shall  follow  your  advice , 
go  and  get  the  Arab." 

Lanky  rises  obediently. 

"  No  :  the  roan,"  says  the  Captain. 

"  He's  cast  a  shoe,  and  that's  a  fact,  Cap'n." 

"  Diable  !  then  the  Arabian — Selvm,  as  the  heathen  dog 
I  bought  him  of  calls  him." 
15 


10  HOW   CAPTAIN   WATERS   THREATENED   LANKY 

Lanky  goes  out,  and  the  Captain  yawns  uninterrupt?  dly 
until  he  returns. 

"  Heady,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Lugg. 

The  Captain  then  buckles  on  his  sword,  issues  forth  and 
mounts  the  sliin-legged  animal,  who  whinnies  at  his  ap 
proach.  He  throws  the  bridle  on  his  neck,  and  trusts  to 
Providence  to  direct  him.  Lanky  meanwhile  resumes  his 
meat  and  beer,  and  saws  imaginary  obstacles  with  the  ste 
reotyped  north-east  and  south-west  movement  of  his  visage 

Before  following  the  soldier  on  his  morning  ride,  let  us 
return  for  a  moment  to  those  personages  who  no  longer  light 
up  the  rude  mansion  with  their  pleasant  faces  as  of  old — 
and  whose  whereabouts  we  have  heard  Captain  Waters  very 
briefly  allude  to  in  his  muttered  soliloquy. 

We  have  seen  how  Hallam  and  his  "  Company  of  Vir 
ginia  Comedians,"  had,  like  birds  of  passage,  disappeared 
from  Virginia,  after  gatherng  in  those  "  sweet  fields" — to 
carry  out  the  simile — as  much  golden  grain  as  could  be 
found  therein :  and  the  whispered  words  of  Beatrice,  as  she 
sobbed  and  poured  out  her  tender  regrets  to  Charles  Wa 
ters,  have  put  the  reader  in  possession  of  the  particulars  of 
that  last  interview  between  herself  and  her  pseudo  father. 

We  may  understand  readily  how  the  young  girl's  reluc 
tant  and  half-formed  desperate  resolution  to  remain  with 
Hallam,  had  melted  before  the  tender  caresses  of  the  kind 
old  man,  her  uncle — the  more  than  tender  looks  and  words 
of  him  whom  she  had  loved  so  dearly,  and  yet  given  up 
with  a  bursting  heart,  at  the  call  of  inexorable  duty.  Thus 
she  had  remained — and  soon  after  the  scene  upon  the  river, 
the  company  had  taken  their  departure,  and  were  no  more 
seen  in  those  borders — not  any  more,  for  ever. 

Hallam,  Shy  lock,  Shallow,  Mr.  Effingham — all  these 
had  passed  from  Beatrice's  horizon,  leaving  it  bright  and 
calm :  and  in  the  fresh  sunshine  now  she  saw  alone  the 
figures  of  her  kind  uncle,  and  her  tender  Charles,  and  jo 
vial  honest  Captain  Ralph,  and  Townes,  and  Lanky — all 
smiling  on  her,  full  of  love  for  her.  Thus  the  poor  dove, 
beaten  so  long  by  storms,  and  tossed  about  from  land  to 
land ;  exposed  every  where  to  persecutions,  similar  to  those 
under  which  we  have  seen  her  labor ;  thus  Beatrice  found 


TTTH   THE    BAStlNADO    IF   HE    SIGHED.  1  1 

her  life  all  at  once  changed  :  her  heart  suddenly  filled  with 
light  and  joy.  God  had  heard  the  prayers  she  had  uttered, 
and  the  harbor  was  now  reached :  henceforth  she  was  saf« 
from  storms. 

Her  objections  were  now  all  removed,  and  Charles  Wa 
ters  become  her  husband :  and  to  him,  too,  life  opened  and 
grew  brilliant  with  an  untold  splendor :  all  his  sadnesa 
passed — his  face  was  bright  and  joyous — she  was  beside  him, 
loved  so  long,  denied  to  him  so  long,  now  all  his  own. 

The  spring  following  the  autumn  and  winter,  whose  events 
we  have  related,  passed  away,  and  nothing  clouded  the  un 
alloyed  happiness  of  the  household,  but  a  slight  cough 
which  Beatrice  had  caught,  she  said,  far  back  as  her  first  ar 
rival  in  Virginia,  that  day  when  she  fell  into  the  water  from 
the  "  Nancy." 

With  the  quick  apprehension  of  a  lover,  Charles  Waters 
magnified  this  slight  indisposition,  and  determined  to  go  and 
take  up  his  residence  for  a  time  near  one  of  the  newly  dis 
covered  mineral  springs,  beyond  the  mountains.  Beatrice 
resisted  this  proposal  at  first,  and  laughed  at  his  apprehen 
sions — and  indeed  her  cough  was  the  least  possible,  and  gave 
her  no  pain  at  all.  She  saw,  however,  that  if  she  persisted 
in  her  opposition  he  would  be  pained,  and  so  she  assented  ; 
and  ere  long  Charles  and  herself,  and  old  John  Waters,  who 
would  not  leave  her,  his  new-found  daughter  and  little  pet, 
all  went  away  and  took  up  their  sojourn  in  the  far  mountain 
land,  leaving  the  unfortunate  Captain  Ralph  to  amuse  him 
self  with  Lanky  in  the  paternal  mansion. 

Captain  Ralph  had  ipon  reflection,  determined  to  re 
main  ;  having  become  accustomed  to  jovial  society,  he  said, 
those  backwoods  would  kill  him — spite  of  having  the  bon 
p£re,  Charley,  and  that  "  Marguerite  des  Marguerites  " — 
Beatrice,  to  narrate  his  adventures  to.  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton 
and  himself  had  become  great  friends,  and  this  had  for  a 
time  diverted  the  active  soldier's  ennui ;  but  Hamilton 
could  not  fill  up  all  his  time ;  and  the  Captain  was  begin 
ning  to  spend  many  weary  hours,  such  as  we  have  seen  him 
yawning  through,  when  our  story  again  opened. 

About  once  a  month  the  lazy  and  leisurely  post  brought 
him  letters  from  the  far  mountains  ;  and  carried  back  huge 
epistles  from  the  Captain  in  return.  In  these  epistles  the 


2  Atf   ADVENTtTRE. 

soldier  narrated  many  th.\ngs,  not  even  disdaining  to  detail 
the  progress  of  Lanky  Lugg's  love  affair,  which  we  shall 
see  something  of  in  the  course  of  our  narrative.  Beatrice 
and  the  rest  always  laughed  heartily  at  these  accounts  ;  and 
their  letters  to  the  soldier  were  full  of  mirth,  and  tender 
ness,  and  joy;  especially  those  of  the  young  girl,  who  expe 
rienced  a  species  of  wistful  sadness,  whenever  she  wrote  the 
name  of  her  dead  father,  "  Ralph  Waters." 

We  shall  now  leave  them,  happy,  joyous,  in  their  far 
mountain  home,  and  proceed  to  the  history  of  other  person 
ages  of  the  drama. 


CHAPTER    II. 

AN  ADVENTURE. 

LET  us  follow  the  Captain. 

Mounted  on  his  beautiful  steed,  he  set  forward,  utterly 
careless  whither  his  steps  tended — leaving  philosophically 
to  the  intelligent  animal  this  portion  of  the  matter.  The 
horse  took  the  road  toward  the  mountains,  as  if  he  knew 
where  his  master's  heart  was. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Captain,  "  that  suits  me,  Mon 
sieur  Selim,  perfectly  well.  If  you  put  forth  that  speed  of 
yours,  you  will  reach  them  in  a  day,  or  less  ! — Strange," 
continued  the  soldier,  "  how  that  girl  has  won  upon  me  ! 
By  heaven,  she's  an  angel — but  faith  !  I  can't  go  so  far  to-day 
— I  am  intensely  lazy.  What  a  day  to  be  lazy  in,  too  1 
It's  extravagant." 

And  the  soldier  looked  admiringly  at  the  trees  just  put 
ting  forth  their  tender  leaves,  the  grass  just  beginning  to 
peep  up  and  lie  a  verdant  background,  for  a  thousand  flow 
ers;^  the  little  streams  dancing  along  joyously  in  the  gay 
sunlight.  He  listened,  with  pleasure,  to  the  small  birdh 
which  chirruped  gayly,  and  plumed  their  wings  in  the  fresL 
bracing  wind  of  March,  and  went  rising  and  falling  on  the 
air  billows,  predicting  summer  and  warmth.  All  pleased 
him.  On  the  day  before  there  had  been  quite  a  heavy  fall  of 
rain,  and  all  the  streams  were  swollen,  and  overflowed  their 
banks.  The  Captain  had  more  than  one  of  these  to  cros* 


Of   ADVENTURE.  $ 

in  his  path,  but  seemed  to  attach  very  little  importance  to 
them.  He  allowed  the  water  to  splash  his  boots  with  great 
indifference,  and  rode  on  carelessly,  humming  a  merry  song 
all  about  Marshal  Soubise  and  the  great  Frederic.  The 
soldier's  voice  was  excellent,  and  he  gave  the  "  Tra  la !  tra 
la  !  "  with  great  force  and  spirit — completely  to  his  own 
satisfaction,  indeed. 

He  came  thus,  singing  merrily,  and  looking  around  him, 
with  the  roving  and  curious  eye  of  the  partisan,  to  one  of 
those  hollows  in  the  hills,  such  as  are  found  frequently  in 
all  portions  of  Virginia.  The  road  which  had  for  a  mile  or 
two  traversed  a  species  of  wooded  upland,  now  descended 
abruptly  into  the  gorge,  and  mounted  the  thickly  firred  de 
clivity  beyond.  Through  the  gorge  ran  a  deep  stream, 
which,  swollen  by  the  rain,  had  overflowed  its  banks,  and 
now  rushed  on  under  swaying  pine  boughs,  with  a  merry 
brawl,  which  sounded  far  from  unpleasantly.  The  sunshine 
gilded  the  rushing  stream,  the  bold  hill  beyond,  the  thick 
firs,  and  rude  masses  of  rock :  and  so  picturesque  was  the 
scene,  that  Captain  Ralph  paused  a  moment,  and  looked  at 
it  admiringly. 

His  fit  of  admiration  soon  subsided,  however,  and  touch 
ing  his  horse  lightly,  he  passed  down  the  steep  road,  having 
resumed  his  song  with  new  spirit.  Selim  hesitated  a  mo 
ment,  as  he  was  about  to  place  his  delicate  hoof  in  the  wa 
ter. 

"  Tra  la  !  tra  la  !  "  came  from  the  soldier's  lungs  lustily, 
and  apparently  satisfied  that  this  signified  "  go  on  ! "  the 
beautiful  animal  plunged  into  the  water.  In  an  instant  his 
back  was  covered,  and  Captain  Ralph  Waters  experienced 
a  disagreeable  sensation  about  the  lower  part  of  his  person. 

"  Morbleu  !  we  are  in  for  it  1 "  he  cried,  drawing  up  his 
knees,  despairingly. 

Selim  snorted,  and  began  to  swim. 

"  Right !  "  cried  the  soldier  ;  "  Go  on,  comrade  1  What 
is  a  trifling  wetting  !  " 

And  in  defiance  of  the  obstacle,  the  Captain  began  again, 
more  lustily  than  before,  to  troll  his  ditty.  Selim  swam 
vigorously ;  dashed  the  water  from  his  glowing  chest,  and  by 
the  time  his  master  had  arrived  at  the  chorus  of  his  song, 
reached  the  opposite  bank. 


1 4  AN   ADVENTURE. 

He  emerged  from  the  water  like  a  vtatue  of  glittering 
ebony,  and  the  soldier,  with  a  careless  snake  of  his  clothes, 
was  about  to  proceed  onward,  when  suddenly  his  attention 
was  attracted  to  the  opposite  declivity,  which,  as  we  have 
«aid,  was  singularly  steep  and  rugged. 

Down  this  road  there  now  came,  at  full  speed,  a  chariot 
drawn  by  four  spirited  horses,  who  had  plainly  run  away,  for 
the  coachman  in  vain  endeavored  to  check  them,  by  vigor 
ously  tightening  the  reins,  and  uttering  violent  cries. 

The  animals,  with  their  resetted  heads  fixed  obstinately 
sidewise,  took  no  notice  of  these  signs,  and  swept  onward  at 
a  gallop  down  the  declivity  toward  the  stream,  dragging  the 
huge  chariot  like  a  mere  nutshell,  rudely  over  the  stones. 
At  every  bound  the  framework  cracked,  at  every  stone  the 
unwieldly  vehicle  rumbled  and  groaned. 

"  Parbleu  !  here  will  be  a  smash  ! "  cried  the  Captain, 
as  the  animals  rushed  towards  him  ;  "  in  an  instant  they  will 
be  buried  in  that  stream  !  " 

At  the  same  moment,  the  head  of  a  gentleman  emerged 
from  the  door,  and  over  his  shoulders  were  seen  the  Affrighted 
faces  of  two  young  girls. 

"  Women,  morbleu !  "  cried  the  soldier  ;  "  to  the  re5 
cue  ! " 

And  as  the  furious  animals  rushed  headlong  toward  the 
stream,  he  caught,  with  a  powerful  baud,  the  bridle  of  the 
leader  next  to  him,  and  exerting  all  his  strength,  made  him 
swerve. 

Selim  reared  and  fell  upon  his  haunches,  as  the  hot  mouth 
of  the  animal  struck  his  neck,  and  the  Captain,  clinging  like 
a  vice  to  the  rein  he  had  grasped,  was  drawn  half  from  his 
saddle.  The  other  leader,  checked  thus  suddenly,  reared, 
and  his  hoof  struck  the  Captain's  arm  heavily. 

In  another  instant  he  would  have  been  hurled,  in  spite 
of  his  great  strength  and  activity,  beneath  the  feet  of  the 
animals,  when  the  gentleman  whose  head  he  had  seen,  and 
the  coachman,  both  came  to  his  assistance,  and  the  coach- 
horses,  still  struggling,  panting,  and  furious,  were  subdued. 

The  Captain  rose  erect  in  his  saddle  again,  and  seeing 
the  terrified  faces  of  the  ladies  at  the  window  of  the  chariot, 
took  off  his  hat  with  his  left  hand,  and  made  an  elegant 
bow. 


AN  ADVENTURE.  15 

"  Excuse  my  rudeness,  Mesdemoiselks.,"  he  said,  "  that 
devil  of  an  animal  has  nearly  broken  my  right  arm,  par- 
bleu !  " 

And  the  soldier  made  a  wry  face,  as  he  tried  to  move  it. 

"  1  owe  you  a  great  many  thanks,  sir,"  said  the  gentle 
man,  who  had  now  abandoned  the  horses  to  the  coachman ; 
"  we  should  have  run  great  risk  here — indeed,  I  may  say 
that  you  saved  our  lives." 

"  Not  at  all,  not  all — no  thanks,"  said  the  Captain  ;  "  but 
faith  you  would  have  got  a  wetting,  sir ;  and  I  very  much 
fear  those  charming  young  ladies  would  have  had  their  silks 
and  velvets  utterly  demolished.  Upon  reflection,  I  am  con 
vinced  that  so  far  they  owe  me  thanks." 

"  Pray  let  us  know  then,  whom  to  return  them  to,"  said 
the  gentleman,  with  a  courteous  smile. 

"  To  Captain  Ralph  Waters — sometimes  called  the 
Chevalier  Waters,  and  the  Chevalier  La  Rivie're,  by  the 
rascally  French,  who  translate  every  thing,  parbleu !  "  said 
the  soldier. 

"  Then,  Captain,  myself  and  my  daughters  are  deeply 
in  your  debt.  My  name  is  Lee,  and  I  insist  upon  your  go 
ing  with  us  to  my  house  at  Riverhead,  to  have  your  bruise 
dressed." 

"  My  bruise  ?  Oh  yes  !  I  had  forgotten  it :  but,  ex 
cellent  sir,  I  do  not  attach  importance  to  these  trifles.  A 
bruise,  more  or  less  ?  Basta !  tis  nothing.  Still  I  will 
gladly  go  with  you,  for  I  am  dying  of  ennui." 

"  Thanks,  sir — now  let  us  see  to  the  means  01*  return- 
ing" 

The  coachman  soon  reassured  Mr.  Lee  upon  this  point. 
The  horses  were  now  quiet,  he  said,  and  would  go  along  eas 
ily.  They  could  not  cross  Duck  creek,  as  it  was  too  deep, 
but  the  horses  could  be  turned,  and  they  could  take  the 
cross-road  to  Riverhead.  So  the  horses  were  turned,  and 
Mr.  Lee,  entering  the  carriage,  the  huge  vehicle  rolled  up 
the  hill  which  it  had  descended  so  rapidly,  and  took  the  di 
rection  of  Riverhead ;  Captain  Ralph  Waters  following 
composedly  by  the  window,  and  when  not  exchanging  com 
pliments  with  the  ladies,  continuing  to  hum  in  a  low  voice 
his  "  Tra  la  !  tra  la  1 " 


16  WAS,   THE  NATURAL   RELATION 


CHAPTER    III. 

m>w  CAPTAIN  RALPH  INFORMED  MISS  HENRIETTA  LIE  TJIAI 

WAR  WAS  THB  NATURAL  RELATION  OF  THE  SEXES. 

AN  hour's  ride  brought  thorn  to  Riverhead,  and  the  chariot 
rolled  around  the  gravelled  circle,  and  stopped  before  the 
large  portico. 

The  old  mansion  looked  much  the  same  as  it  did  on  that 
day,  when  in  company  with  Mr.  Champ  Effingham,  we  first 
entered  its  wide  hall ;  and  the  soft  leaves  of  spring  began  to 
rustle  around  the  gables,  and  throw  their  delicate  and  rest 
less  shadows  on  the  ancient  walls.  On  that  day,  when  Bea 
trice,  full  of  grief  and  mortification,  had  entered  the  house, 
it  looked  silent  and  dismal,  and  the  winds  of  autumn  sobbed 
around  it  mournfully : — now,  times  and  personages  were 
changed.  In  place  of  a  sad,  weary-looking  mansion,  there 
was  a  pleasant,  cheerful  one : — in  place  of  a  poor  wounded 
heart,  a  frail  trembling  form  at  the  door,  there  entered  un 
der  that  broad  portal,  a  martial  merry  stranger,  with  huge 
moustache,  and  jingling  spurs  and  sword,  and  serene  brows 
and  lips,  save  when  the  brow  was  elevated  by  its  apprecia 
tion  of  some  odd  humor,  the  lips  moved  by  laughter. 

Autumn  was  gone — merry  and  laughing  spring  had  come. 

They  entered.  Henrietta  and  Clare  retired  to  make 
their  toilettes  for  dinner,  and  Mr.  Lee  explained  briefly  how 
he  had  been  to  visit  a  neighbor,  where  he  had  spent  the 
night — was  returning — how  the  horses  took  fright  at  some 
thing:  how  they  had  been  unable  to  check  their  fury,  or 
leap  out.  He  wound  up  with  a  second  expression  of  grate 
t'ul  thanks. 

The  Captain  refused  to  receive  them,  and  declared  that 
he  was  delighted  to  have  met  with  something  to  arouse  his 
blood.  Then  Mr.  Lee  offered  him  a  dressing-room.  No, 
he  did  not  need  it :  and  in  the  middle  of  the  conversation 
the  young  girls  made  their  re-entrance. 

Then  came  thanks  again,  which  the  Captain  received  as 
before — and  Clare,  with  a  delightful  look  of  kind  courtesy 
in  her  sad  little  face,  held  out  her  hand.  The  Captain 
pressed  it  with  martial  and  chivalric  respect  to  his  lips. 


Or    THE    SEXES.  17 

He  thought  that  this  jeremony  would  be  repeated  im 
mediately  with  the  lily  hand  of  Henrietta :  hut  he  was  mis 
taken.  Henrietta's  thanks  were  returned  with  much  more 
coolness  and  stateliness  than  Clare's;  and  she  made  no 
movement  indicating  an  intention  to  surrender  her  hand  to 
the  soldier.  She  was  clad  as  usual,  with  the  utmost  ele 
gance  and  richness,  and  looked  like  a  queen — except  that 
her  mischievously  sparkling  eyes  somewhat  belied  her  royal 
air. 

The  Captain  submitted  to  this  refusal  with  great  good- 
humor,  and  looked  admiringly  at  the  brilliant  countenance 
Henrietta  gave  him  back  his  gaze,  and  declared  afterwards, 
that  she  had  never  met  with  such  an  impudent  person  in  all 
her  life  before.  Perhaps  Captain  Ralph  was  conscious  of 
what  was  passing  through  the  young  girl's  mind,  for  he 
turned  away  in  a  moment  smiling. 

Ten  minutes  afterwards  a  servant  announced  that  dinner 
was  ready,  and  Henrietta  hastily  grasped  her  father's  arm. 
The  Captain  smiled  again,  as  he  offered  his  own  to  Clare, 
and  said  to  himself,  "  Why,  she  don't  like  me,  parbleu  1 " 
And  so  they  entered,  and  took  their  places,  the  Captain  mak 
ing  grimaces. 

Clare  saw  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  and  said, 
suddenly : 

"  Oh,  sir  I  you  gave  me  the  arm  which  the  horse  bruised 
— I  am  very  sorry  1" 

"  Nothing — a  mere  trifle  !  "  said  the  Captain,  sitting 
down  ;  "  do  not  give  yourself  a  moment's  uneasiness  about 
it,  madam.  We  soldiers  are  accustomed  to  these  incidents." 

"  You  have  seen  some  service  then,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Lee, 
as  dinner  proceeded ;  "  though  I  might  have  known  that 
from  your  appearance  simply." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  soldier ;  "  not  a  little,  excellent 
sir.  I  was  seized  with  a  roving  fit  when  I  was  a  beardless 
youth,  and  left  home  and  the  bon  pdre — old  John  Waters, 
the  fisherman  down  there  is  my  father,  and  an  :xce!lent  fa 
ther,  morbleu  1  See  what  bad  habits  I  have  caught  1 " 

Mr.  Lee  smiled. 

"  Is  it  not  shocking,  madam,"  continued  the  soldier,  ad 
dressing  Henrietta,  "that  even  in  the  presence  of  such 


1 8  WAR,    THE  NATURAL   RELATION 

charming  persons  as  yourself  and  mademoiselle,  here,  1 
should  not  be  able  to  drop  my  little  peculiarities  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  is  the  result  of  your  profession,  sir,"  re 
turned  Henrietta,  coldly.  She  had  not  forgotten  the  stare 
yet. 

"  Certainly,  certainly  "  said  the  Captain,  "  undoubtedly ! 
We  poor  soldiers  cannot  be  expected  to  be  very  polished. 
We  find  ourselves  whipping  out  our  '  morbleus '  and  '  egads,' 
parbleu  ! — see  there,  again  !  Really,  it  is  deplorable  1 " 

And  the  Captain  seemed  so  much  vexed  with  himself, 
that  Clare  could  not  help  smiling. 

"  Ah,  you  appreciate  the  soldier's  disadvantage,  madam," 
said  Captain  Ralph,  returning  Clare's  smile. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Henrietta,  to  herself — "  that  means,  I 
suppose,  that  I  am  very  unreasonable,  and  do  not." 

"  Madam — your  elder  sister,  I  presume — she  looks  much 
older — does  not  appreciate  the  said  disadvantages,  I  fear," 
continued  the  Captain,  "  and  that  is,  I  think,  unreasonable." 

Henrietta  frowned,  and  seemed  to  relish  very  slightly 
this  verification  of  her  thoughts. 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  natural,  Captain  Waters,"  she 
said,  somewhat  piqued,  "  than  that  you  should  retain  some 
of  the  ways  of  camps.  It  would  be  unreasonable,  as  you 
have  said,  to  look  for  any  thing  else  in — " 

"  A  rude  soldier.  Well,  I  finish  your  thoughts,  and  you 
are  right.  We  had  hard  times  under  his  gracious  Majesty, 
the  great  Frederic  of  Prussia.  Diable!  blows  came  as 
thick  as  hail,  and  there  was  little  polish  except  that  on  steel 
caps  and  halberds,  madam  !  Do  not,  however,  understand 
me  as  complaining.  No,  we  had  a  glorious  time — fighting 
like  devils,  drinking,  bivouacking,  taking  towns,  chasing  the 
French ;  ah  !  it  was  a  glorious  life — believe  me,  madam,  a 
thing  to  stir  the  blood,  and  make  one  happy  1 " 

With  which  words,  the  Captain  raised  his  arm  enthusi 
astically,  and  in  consequence  uttered  a  distinct  and  unmis 
takable 

"  Diable  I  " 

"  Your  recollections  seem  exceedingly  vivid,  sir,"  said 
Henrietta,  with  a  satirical  curl  of  her  lip,  "  take  care  of  your 
arm  1  " 

"  Excellent  advice  1 "  cried  the  Captain,  laughing,  "  ad 
mirable  I  " 


07  THE   SEXES.  19 

"  Will  you  not  let  me  get  you  something,  to  dress  the 
bruise,  sir  ?  "  said  Clare,  softly,  "  it  is  very  little  to  do  for 
you,  after  exposing  yourself  to  so  much  danger  for  us." 

"  No.  no  !  a  thousand  thanks,  however,  my  dear  Miss 
Lee,"  said  the  soldier,  "  you  really  make  me  regret  that  I 
did  not  break  both  arms !  " 

And  having  uttered  this  witticism,  Captain  Waters 
emptied  a  huge  glass  of  wine  to  Clare's  health. 

"  It  would  be  hard  for  you  to  suffer  such  a  calamity  now 
after  passing  through  so  many  wars,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  with  a 
smile,  as  the  young  ladies  rose  to  leave  the  table. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  Captain,  throwing  a  last  smiling 
glance  upon  Henrietta,  "  yes,  Mr.  Lee — after  so  many  blood- 
and-thunder  battles,  cannonading,  charges,  and  assaults  on 
towns  and  ports,  and  every  thing  of  that  description — you 
are  right :  it  would  be  a  b&tise  to  have  my  arm  broken  by 
a  horse,  parbleu  !  " 

"  You  were  about  to  speak  of  your  campaigns  just  now, 
when  we  were  drawn  off  by  a  discussion,  in  regard  to  camp* 
manners,"  Mr.  Lee  said,  smiling. 

"  My  campaigns  ?  Ah  !  I  cannot  draw  the  diagram,  aa 
well  as  I  can  handle  my  halberd  in  the  ranks,  sir." 

"  You  fought  at  Rosbach  ?  " 

"  Yes,  excellent  sir." 

"  Were  you  with  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  ?  " 

"  No,  Heaven  be  thanked.  Being  nonplussed  is  bad— 
but  by  Marshal  D'Etrees  I  " 

And  the  soldier's  moustache  curled. 

"  Lissa,  perhaps,  was  another  of  your  battles,"  said  Mr. 
Lee,  who  seemed  to  be  curious  in  the  subject  of  the  Seven 
Years'  War : 

The  Captain  nodded. 

"  Not  Glatz,  I  hope." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  soldier. 

"  Really  you  must  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  servioe, 
Captain  Waters,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  If  it  is  not  too 
much  trouble,  would  you  be  good  enough  to  explain  the  posi 
tion  of  the  forces  at  Lissa — the  numbers  of  combatants  and 
other  matters.  The  subject  interests  me  deeply,  and  you 
were  an  eye-witness  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  sir — yes :  Will  I  explain,  say  you  J 
Why.  certainly." 


20  WAR,   THE   NATURAL   RELATION 

Mr.  Lee  bent  over,  much  interested.  The  Captain  pjur 
ed  some  drops  of  wine  on  the  table,  and  elongated  them  into 
the  lines  of  a  diagram,  with  his  finger. 

"  Mark  you — our  force  was  only  30,000,  that  of  the  ene 
my  close  upon  100,000,"  commenced  the  Captain ;  "  it  was 
fought  on  the  5th  of  December,  and  this  was  the  position  of 
the  battalions :  the  great  Frederic  here — there  Prince  Charles 
of  Lorraine,  and  General  Nadasti.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  bending  over. 

"  Well,  parbleu  !  now  for  the  battle." 

And  the  soldier  began. 

We  regret  that  we  cannot  follow  him,  in  his  stirring  and 
excited  narrative — a  narrative  in  which  men  and  actions  rose 
visibly  before  the  auditor,  colored  by  the  brilliant  and  vigor 
ous  mind  of  the  soldier.  The  battle  of  Lissa,  in  which  the 
great  Frederic  surpassed  Rosbach,  has  unfortunately  nothing 
at  all  to  do  with  our  history,  and  we  are  compelled  to  omit 
the  Captain's  account  of  it — an  account  which  Mr.  Lee  lis 
tened  to  with  rapt  attention. 

"  That  was  it,  parbleu !  "  cried  the  soldier.  "  Frederic 
never  surpassed  it  in  all  his  wonderful  campaigns — the  old 
Satyr  1  Imagine  a  wild  boar  cool  and  laughing — there  is 
the  man,  at  Lissa.  Well,  after  that  last  charge — a  perfect 
hell  of  guns  and  troopers,  rushing  on  like  a  lake  of  fire  sud 
denly  let  loose,  all  was  said  !  The  enemy  were  nothing  but 
a  parcel  of  sheep.  We  took  nearly  30,000  prisoners  on  the 
field,  and  40,000  more,  to  say  nothing  of  guns  and  wagons,  at 
Breslau.  Tonnere !  it  was  a  day  which  a  man  remembers  all 
his  life,  and  I  hear  the  drums  rolling  over  Breslau  now — aa 
I  hear  plainly  the  tumult  of  that  great  tremendous  battle, 
roaring,  crashing,  rising  and  falling; — I  almost  smell  the 
Mood ! » 

And  the  soldier's  eyes  were  illuminated  with  a  brilliant 
and  martial  fire,  which  riveted  the  gaze  of  his  deeply-inter 
ested  auditor. 

"  Ah,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  "  I  envy  you  those  experi 
ences — you  are  very  fortunate  :  how  grandly  you  must  have 
felt  after  that  fight." 

"  For  a  time — yes,  friend.  But  it  was  not  the  most 
agreeable  sort  of  life.  True,  we  have  wild  and  splendid  adven 
tures,  passion,  excitement,  and  delight.  But  there  is  some 


OP    THE    SEXES.  21 

iuffering,  believe  me — yet  let  us  not  speak  of  that.  I  could 
relate  some  of  my  experiences  of  that  suffering  phase — but 
it  is  not  necessary.  Parbleu  !  I  don't  regret  any  thing." 

And  the  two  men  rose,  and  betook  themselves  to  the 
drawing-room. 

After  an  hour's  conversation,  in  which  Henrietta  pre 
served  the  same  expression  of  coldness  and  pique,  the  sol 
dier  rose  to  take  his  leave. 

Mr.  Lee  held  out  his  hand  courteously,  and  said : 

"  I  should  esteem  it  a  favor,  Captain  Waters,  if  you 
would  occasionally  call  and  see  me  here.  I  am  an  old  man, 
and  do  not  visit  much  myself:  do  not  stand  upon  cere 
mony." 

"  Ah,  mon  ami,"  said  the  soldier,  "  you  would  have 
some  more  battles — is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Yes — you  have  guessed  my  hobby,"  replied  the  old 
gentleman,  smiling  :  "  but  I  fear  you  will  become  weary." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  am  fond  of  going  over  my  adventures, 
and  you  know  we  can  always  defer  the  subject,  until  the 
fair  ladies,  here,  retire.  While  they  are  present,  we  will 
liscuss  the  last  fashions  and  modes  de  Paris" 

With  which  the  Captain  twirls  his  moustache,  and  directs 
an  engaging  smile  toward  Henrietta. 

"  Indeed,  sir !  "  says  the  queenly  young  girl,  "  you  must 
have  a  very  low  opinion  of  our  sex." 

"  How  !  my  dear  madam  ?  " 

Henrietta  feels  some  resentment,  at  this  easy  mode  of 
address,  and  becomes  more  indignant  than  ever,  at  the  Cap 
tain's  impudence.  But  she  replies  : 

"  The  injustice  lies  in  your  imagining  that  we  think  of 
nothing  but  dress,  and  cannot  understand  battles." 

"  Ah,  you  do  me  injustice,  now,"  says  the  Captain.  "  I 
am  so  far  from  thinking  your  charming  sex  averse  to  battles, 
that  I  am  convinced  that  war  is  the  normal  state  of  their 
lives." 

"  War,  sir  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure !  nothing  plainer.  Ah,  my  dear  mademoi 
selle,  you  cannot  deny  it  1  You  make  war,  for  ever,  on  th« 
unfortunate  rude  sex.  Is  it  not  so  ?* 

"  I  do  not,  sir." 

"Possibly:  then  you  are  an  exception — I   can  \jnder- 


22  WAR,   THE   NATURAL   RELATION   OP   THJS    SEXES. 

stand  that  you  do  not  care  for  us — but  nevertheless,  madam, 
war  is  your  sex's  natural  state.  See,  the  artillery  of  your 
eyes — how  fatal  is  it !  What  fatal,  death-dealing  glances 
you  throw.  By  heaven,  it  is  worse  than  gunpowder,  and 
many  a  tall  fellow  has  succumbed.  Well,  well,  I  see  I  am 
wearying  you.  I  shall  now  respectfully  bid  you  farewell." 

"  I  hope  your  arm  does  not  pain  you,  sir,"  says  Clare, 
softly. 

"  Not  now,  madam — scarcely  at  all : — 'tis  a  mere  trifle— 
not  like  the  cut  I  got  at  Q-latz." 

"  Remember,  Captain,  that  Glatz  is  promised  me,"  says 
Mr.  Lee,  "  and  I  shall  give  you  but  a  day  or  so  to  rest,  after 
fighting  Lissa  over  for  me.  When  shall  we  expect  you  ?  " 

"  Morbleu  !  very  soon  !  I  assure  you  that  I  am  dying 
of  weariness  down  there — the  bon  pere,  Charley,  and  all, 
are  gone — behold  me  all  alone,  a  sole  cavalier,  fault  of 
better." 

"  Why  does  he  not  speak  in  French  at  once,"  said  Henri 
etta  to  herself,  satirically. 

"  Do  you  speak  French,  madam  ?  "  asked  the  Captain. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Henrietta,  more  piqued  than  ever,  at 
having  her  countenance  read  so  easily,  "  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Faith !  I  saw  you  smiling  at  my  unfortunately  un- 
English  way  of  talking." 

Henrietta  made  no  reply. 

"  Nothing  is  more  natural,  than  that  you  should  have 
acquired  the  habit,  in  the  Seven  Years'  War,  Captain,"  said 
Mr.  Lee,  "  and  I  promise  you  that  I  will  listen  to  your  ac 
count  of  Glatz,  if  it  is  given  entirely  in  French." 

"  Well,  sir — prepare  yourself  very  soon.  As  I  said,  time 
hangs  on  my  hands,  down  yonder.  Lanky,  he  is  my  servant, 
amuses  me  sometimes,  but  I  find  much  time  on  my  hands." 

"  Your  visit  will  be  a  pleasure,  and  an  honor,  sir ;  and 
permit  me,  again,  to  thank  you  for  your  service  rendered  to 
us  to-day." 

"  Oh,  it  was  nothing,  as  you  know :  and  now,  sir,  I  must 
go — as  I  perceive  that  Mademoiselle  Henriette — have  I  mis 
taken  your  name,  madam  ? — No  ?  Well,  I  am  afraid  you 
tire  of  me — and  I  take  my  leave." 

With  which  words  the  Captain  oowed  to  Henrietta  c*v- 


AN   ENCOUNTER    ON   THE   HIGHWAY.  28 

alierly,  to  Clare  piofoundly,  and  again  shaking  hands  with 
the  old  gentleman,  issued  forth  and  mounted  his  horse. 

"  A  splendid  girl  I "  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  got  into 
the  saddle,  "  what  if  I  seriously  thought  of  marrying  ?  I 
am  sure  she  would  have  me — we  would  suit  each  other  per 
fectly." 

And  laughing  quietly  to  himself,  the  Captain  returned 
homeward,  humming  his  "  Tra  la  1  tra  la  1 " 


CHAPTER    IV. 

AN  ENCOUNTEB  ON  THE  HIGHWAY. 

Two  days  after  the  scene  which  we  have  just  related,  Hen 
rietta  and  Clare  were  sitting  in  the  drawing-room  at  River- 
head,  waiting  for  their  father,  who  was  making  his  toilette, 
to  accompany  them  out  to  dinner.  The  chariot  stood  at 
the  door,  with  its  four  glossy  horses,  and  liveried  coachman 
and  footman. 

Henrietta  was  amusing  herself  with  a  new  book,  at  which 
she  laughed  from  time  to  time  merrily.  Clare  was  sitting 
quietly  engaged  upon  some  small  ornamental  work,  and  her 
sweet  tender  little  face,  wore  its  usual  expression  of  quiet 
sadness,  as  with  her  long  dusky  lashes  resting  on  her  cheek, 
she  pursued  her  occupation. 

At  last  Henrietta  threw  down  the  volume,  petulantly. 

"  I  cannot  have  any  peace  of  my  life  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

Clare  raised  her  head. 

"  How,  sister  ?  "  she  said. 

'  For  thinking  of  that  rude  man's  impudence  1 " 

"  Who— Captain  Waters  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  he  offend  you  ?  " 

"  My  goodness,  Clarry  !  how  unobservant  you  are  1  Did 
you  not  hear  his  impertinent  speeches  to  us  ?  " 

"  No,  sister." 

"  Well,  I  heard  them  J  and  I  think  he  is  odious  I " 

"  Odious  ?  " 


24  AM    ENCOUNTER    ON    THE    HIGHWAY. 

"Hateful!" 

"  Oh,  you  ought  not  to  place  too  much  stress  upon  hia 
roughness,  sister,"  said  Clare,  *  he  has  not  been  bred  in 
courts — he  has  been  fighting,  you  know." 

"  Is  that  any  reason  why  he  should  insult  a  lady  ?  " 

"  Insult  you,  sister  !  " 

"  Yes,  Clarry — you  know  he  did.  '  Ladies  could  not 
understand  any  thing  but  fashions,'  indeed  1  He  would  wait 
until  we  had  retired,  to  narrate  his  heroic  achievements  1 " 

Clare  smiled  faintly. 

"  I  don't  think  he  meant  to  offend  you,  or  me,  sister,"  she 
said. 

"  Well,  I  choose  to  be  offended,  Clarry,  whether  yon  do 
or  not !  Really !  '  The  artillery  of  my  eyes — war  the  na 
tural  relation  of  the  sexes  1 '  Was  any  thing  ever  more  im 
pudent!" 

"  It  was  a  very  harmless  jest,  I  think,"  replied  Clare. 

"  I  think  it  very  impudent." 

"  Oh,  no,  sister." 

"  There  you  are,  Clarry,  with  your  excessive  good-na 
ture  1  You  see  nothing  improper,  in  the  free  and  easy  ad 
dress  of  this  rude  man — who — " 

"  Who  did  us  a  very  great  service,  sister,"  added  Clare, 
softly. 

"  Well,  suppose  he  did :  any  gentleman  would  have  done 
as  much.  Do  not  understand  me  to  say,  however,  that  I 
think  him  a  gentleman." 

"  Papa  says  that  he  is  a  very  worthy  gentleman." 

"  Humph  !  "  ejaculated  Henrietta. 

"  He  says,"  continued  Clare, "  that  from  his  own  account 
he  must  have  fought  very  bravely, — '  like  a  lion,'  papa 
says — " 

"  Yes — his  boasting !  " 

"  No,  no — papa  says  that  he  never  mentioned  himself, 
unless  he  was  questioned." 

"  Mock  modesty  1" 

Clare  smiled  again,  with  the  same  faint,  quiet  expression. 

"  You  are  determined,  I  see,  to  dislike  Captain  Waters," 
she  said,  "  and  I  cannot  convince  you,  that  he  meant  no 
offence  when  he  was  here." 

"  No,  Clarry,  you  cannot" 


AN  ENCOUNTER  ott  THE  HiGHWAt.  26 

"  Your  prejudices  are  very  strong,  sister.' 

"  Yes,  they  are,  and  I  confess  that  I  think  this  gentle 
man  is  odious,  hateful,  impertinent ;  and  I  will  never  see  him 
again." 

As  she  spoke,  a  loud,  hearty  voice,  was  heard  to  say  in 
the  passage,  "  Parbleu  !  you  need  not  announce  me,  friend  !  " 
and  Captain  Ralph  entered,  smiling  and  cheerful. 

"  Bon  jour,  mesdames  !  "  he  said,  bowing,  "  or  if  you  do 
not  like  French,  permit  me  to  inquire  about  your  health  in 
good  English." 

"  Thank  you,  I  am  well,  sir,"  said  Clare,  with  a  cour 
teous  little  inclination  of  her  smiling  face. 

"  And  Miss  Henrietta  ?  "  said  the  Captain,  "  I  am  sure, 
if  outward  appearances  are  to  be  relied  on,  she  is  distress 
ingly  well,  in  awfully  good  spirits." 
x"  I  am  very  well,  sir,"  said  Henrietta,  coldly. 

"  Any  more  adventures,  madam  ?  "  asked  the  Captain, 
with  great  interest,  "  no  horses  running  away  again,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then,  you  have  not  missed  me  ?  " 

"  No,  sir !  "  said  Henrietta,  with  great  emphasis. 

The  Captain  smiled. 

"  Well,  then,  you  are  in  my  debt  somewhat,"  he  said. 

"  How,  pray  sir  ?  "  asked  Henrietta,  with  cold  surprise, 
and  a  look  which  was  intended  to  transfix  and  render  speech 
less  the  audacious  visitor. 

"  The  plainest  thing  in  the  world,  morbleu !  "  said  the 
Captain,  "I  am  a  bachelor." 

"  Sir  ?  " 

"  I  live  all  alone  down  there,  in  my  cabin  on  the  river— 
where  the  bon  p£re  used  to  live,  you  know." 

"  No,  I  do  not  know,  sir." 

"  Ah,  well !  that  does  not  alter  the  fact,"  said  the  Cap 
tain,  with  a  cheerful  smile,  "  it  is  the  paternal  mansion — my 
father,  my  dear  madam,  is  that  excellent  old  fisherman,  John 
Waters.  But  he  is  now  away  with  Charley — in  the  moun 
tains  ;  and  thus  I  am  alone  by  myself — as  lonely,  parbleu ! 
as  an  unfortunate  bear,  forced  to  suck  his  paws  for  amuse- 
in  3nt." 

"  Well,  sir  ?  "  said  Henrietta,  as  coldly  as  ever. 

"  Well,"  continued  the  Captain,  smiling,  "  it  naturally 


26  AN   ENCOUNTER   ON   THft     HIGHWAY. 

follows  that  I  am  in  want  of  company.  When  I  see  others 
surrounded  with  it,  I  break  the  tenth  commandment — though 
not  the  clause  relating  to  my  neighbor's  wife.  When  I 
left  you  two  days  since,  my  unfortunate  mansion  seemed 
more  lonely  than  ever.  Voila  tout !  That  is  why  I  missed 
you." 

And  the  Captain  curled  his  moustache  toward  the  eye, 
with  a  fascinating  smile.  It  was  Henrietta's  lip  that 
curled. 

"  I  would  counsel  you  to  marry  then,  sir,"  she  said,  sa 
tirically,  "  a  companion  would  cheer  your  loneliness." 

"  See  !  now,  what  a  remarkable  coincidence  of  thought !  " 
cried  the  soldier,  laughing.  "  Parole  cTkonneur,  Madam 
Henrietta,  you  have  hit  upon  just  what  occurred  to  myself!  " 

"  Indeed,  sir  !  " 

"  Yes,  indeed — verily,  as  the  English  chaplain  of  our 
regiment  used  to  say,  with  a  dreadful  drawl,  however,  through 
his  nose.  Yes,  indeed — upon  my  word  of  honor  as  a  sol 
dier  !  That  has  struck  me — yes,  I  want  a  wife.  For  you 
know  I  cannot  be  all  the  time  with  Jack  Hamilton,  and  those 
stupid  members  of  the  ruder  sex." 

"  Mr.  Hamilton  is  one  of  my  friends,  sir,"  said  Henrietta, 
more  and  more  piqued. 

"  Ah  ?  Well,  he  is  a  good  fellow — an  excellent  fellow ! 
Parbleu !  a  delightful  companion,  and  we  have  emptied  many 
a  jovial  cup  together : — a  good  comrade — Seigneur  Mart- 
Reynard,  as  I  call  him.  Guess,  now,  his  name  for  me  !  " 

"  I  have  very  little  turn  for  guessing,  sir." 

"  Shall  I  reveal  it  then  ?  " 

"  If  you  fancy,  sir." 

"  Certainly,  I  fancy.  He  calls  me — the  farceur  ! — his 
name  for  me  is  Don  Moustachio  !  What  a  deplorable  at 
tempt  at  a  jest." 

"  It  is  at  least  characteristic,  sir,"  said  Henrietta,  with  » 
satirical  smile. 

"  Why,  yes,"  replied  the  Captain,  "  there  is  some  justice 
in  designating  me  by  my  moustache.' 

And  the  Captain  caressed  that  ornament  affectionately; 
his  white  teeth  glittering  under  the  ebon  fringe  like  huge 
pearls. 

"  A  good  companion  is  Hamilton,"  he  added,  •  and  1 


AN   ENCOUNTER    ON   THE   HIGHWAY.  J 

feave  many  excellent  friends  of  the  same  description.  But 
ifter  all  ma'm'selle,  there  is  nothing  like  the  divine  sex." 

"  Thank  you,  sir  I  " 

"  Oh.  you  think  me  insincere !  " 

"No^sir!" 

"  You  think  I  flatter  you." 

"  Was  any  portion  of  your  ohservation  intended  for  me, 
Bir  ?  Really  you  are  very  kind  !  " 

"  Any  portion  for  yourself  1  Why  the  whole  of  it  was 
for  you." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  sir,"  said  Henrietta,  with  the  same 
satirical  expression. 

"  You  deserved  it,  morbleu  !  "  added  the  Captain,  "  and 
lest  I  may  be  considered  ungallant  by  Miss  Clare,  I  will  say 
that  she  deserved  even  more." 

Clare  smiled  politely. 

"  You  are  very  gallant,  I  think,  Captain  Waters,"  she 
said. 

"  I  gallant ! — oh,  no  !  ma'm'selle  :  I  am  only  a  rude  sol 
dier.  I  handle  the  pike  and  halberd,  sword  and  pistol,  car 
bine  and  musket,  much  better  than  the  implements  of  peace 
— smiling  words,  polite  speeches,  and  all  that.  Frankness, 
madam,  is  my  only  virtue — but  that  I  claim  to  have  in  ex 
cess." 

"  It  is  a  quality  I  very  much  admire,  Captain  Waters," 
here  interposed  the  voice  of  Mr.  Lee,  who  had  entered  be 
hind  the  soldier ;  "  give  you  good  day,  sir." 

And  the  old  gentleman  shook  the  soldier  cordially  by 
the  hand. 

"  You  are  going  to  ride,  sir,"  said  the  Captain;  "  I  be 
lieve  another  of  my  shining  merits  is,  that  I  always  happen 
to  arrive  malapropos" 

"  No — our  ride  is  of  no  importance  :  to-morrow  will  do 
as  well.  You  came  to  dine  with  us,  doubtless,  and  so  I  will 
eend  the  chariot  back." 

Henrietta  could  not  restrain  a  little  sigh  of  dissatisfac« 
tion :  to  be  disappointed  in  their  ride  ! — to  be  obliged  to 
entertain  the  soldier  all  day  long  !  It  was  too  vexatious." 

The  Captain  heard  the  sigh,  and  catching  the  expression 
of  the  young  girl's  face,  smiled.  He  had  her  at  his  mercy, 
and  for  a  moment  paused  maliciously. 


28  AN   ENCOtiNTER    ON   THE   HIGHWAY. 

At  last  he  said,  laughing  : 

"  No,  no,  sir  1  I  could  not  think  of  forcing  you  to  defer 
your  excursion :  I  perceive  that  mesdames  here  are  bent 
upon  it." 

"  We  were  only  going  over  to  Effingham  Hall,  sir — a 
matter  of  no  urgency : — merely  a  friendly  call,"  said  Mr.  Lee. 
"  You  shake  your  head.  Ah,  well  sir — go  with  us.  What 
say  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  Effingham  Hall's  acquaint 
ance,"  said  the  Captain,  coldly,  "  though  I  remember  going 
there  one  day,  to  challenge  Mr.  Effingham  Jr." 

u  A  challenge,  sir  !  "  said  Henrietta. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  madam.  Mr.  Effingham,  Jr.,  aforesaid, 
ran  his  toasting  iron  through  my  brother's  shoulder,  and  as 
there  was  a  little  affair  already  nearly  hatched  between  them, 
I  thought  it  my  duty  to  take  Charley's  place." 

"  But  you  did  not  fight ! "  exclaimed  poor  Clare,  "  you 
know — " 

There  she  stopped,  with  her  face  overshadowed. 

"  No,  Ma'm'selle  Claire,  vous  avez  raison.  No  !  we  did 
not,  and  that  for  one  circumstance  which  would  not  interest 
you.  The  young  gentleman  went  away,  doubtless  ignorant 
of  the  fact  that  1  had  called." 

Poor  Clare's  head  drooped,  as  the  Captain  uttered  these 
words,  and  she  murmured,  "  Yes,  he  went  the  same  evening." 
She  alone  knew  all. 

"  Therefore,"  continued  the  Captain,  "  I  decline  going 
to  Effingham  Hall :  but  that  does  not  prevent  my  riding  by 
the  chariot,  mesdames,  for  a  mile  or  two.  I  am  desperately 
tired  of  that  Lanky 's  society." 

And,  smiling,  the  Captain  issued  forth  with  the  company. 

"  Ah,  your  beautiful  horse  again,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  "  an 
Arabian,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  took  a  fancy  to  him  in  Constantinople,  and 
bought  him  for  a  handful  of  piastres.  A  beautiful  horse  is 
the  next  thing  to  a  beautiful  woman  !  " 

"  Thanks  for  the  comparison,  sir,"  »aid  Henrietta,  dis« 
dainfully. 

"  Is  it  not  just  ?  " 

"Sir?" 

"  Come,  is  not  Selim  handsome  ?     Answer,  ma'mselle." 


AN   ENCOUNTER   ON   THE    HIGHWAY.  2ft 

"  Yes,  sir— well  ?  " 

"  That  satisfies  me  :  and  faith  !  I  am  so  well  pleased 
with  getting  the  better  of  you  in  the  argument,  that  if  you 
want  him,  I  will  present  you  with  Selim." 

Henrietta  looked  at  the  soldier. 

"  You  would  suit  each  other  :  he's  a  charming  horse,' 
said  the  Captain,  laughing. 

Henrietta  was  completely  overcome,  by  these  audacious 
compliments  :  and  could  only  say,  coldly  : 

"  Thank  you,  sir — I  have  a  riding  horse." 

"  Will  you  ride  on  horseback,  or  with  us  ?  "  interposed 
Mr.  Lee. 

"  On  horseback,  sir — parbleu,  on  horseback.  I  am  more 
at  home  in  the  saddle — and  Selim  understands  me." 

And  passing  to  the  carriage  door,  the  Captain  gallantly 
assisted  the  young  girls  to  enter  the  huge  vehicle,  laughing 
all  the  while,  at  the  successful  generalship  which  forced 
Henrietta  to  give  her  hand  to  him. 

The  chariot  then  rolled  off  toward  Effingham  Hall,  and 
the  Captain,  mounting  Selim,  who  stood  ready,  rode  toward 
it,  humming  his  eternal  "  tra  la  !  tra  la  !  "  which  he  occasion 
ally  changed,  for  the  sake  of  variety,  to  "  Tirra  lirra  !  tirra 
lirra !  " 

He  rode  for  some  miles  by  the  carriage  window,  and 
managed  to  materially  deepen  the  impression  of  his  imperti 
nence  upon  Henrietta,  by  declining  to  understand  her  satiri 
cal  repartees,  and  applauding  them  as  so  many  evidences  of 
sprightliness,  with  which  he  was  delighted.  When  the 
chariot  arrived  at  the  road  which  led  from  the  highway  to 
Effingham  Hall,  the  Captain  drew  up. 

"  You  will  not  go  with  us,  then  ?  "  said  Mr.  Lee,  "  I 
hope  you  have  no  quarrel  with  the  squire,  sir  ?  " 

"  None — none :  I  may  even  say,  I  think  that  we  are 
good  friends,  since  I  recollect  some  very  polite  speeches  he 
made  on  our  former  meeting.  But  I  must  go  to  Williams- 
burg  this  morning.  I  had  quite  forgotten  that  this  is  tho 
day  of  the  arrival  of  the  mountain  post." 

"  Ah,  yes — your  father — " 

"  Precisely,  my  dear  sir — father,  brother,  sister :  how 
could  I  neglect  that,  morbleu  !  " 

"  Well,  sir :  then  we  must  hope  to  see  you  at  Riverhead 
looo  again." 


SO  TWO   ENEMIES, 

"  With  pleasure  ,  with  pleasure  !  Mesdames,  bonjour  f 

And  the  Captain  bowed  elegantly,  taking  off,  and  lowering 
to  his  saddle-bow,  his  hat  with  its  dark  feather.  The  car 
riage  rolled  on,  and  Captain  Ralph  continued  his  way,  alter 
nately  humming  his  song,  laughing  to  himself,  and  address 
ing  himself  to  the  woods,  in  a  half  audible  tone. 

He  had  nearly  reached  the  town,  when  the  sound  of 
a  horse's  hoofs  attracted  his  attention,  and  raising  his  head 
which  had  been  for  some  time  hanging  down  listlessly,  the 
soldier  saw  within  ten  rods  of  him,  a  gentleman  who  was  rid 
ing  toward  him,  mounted  on  a  splendid  sorrel. 

Something  in  the  air  of  the  traveller,  struck  him  as 
strangely  familiar;  and  his  keen  eye  plunged  beneath  the 
drooping  hat,  which,  black  like  the  stranger's  clothes,  covered 
his  brow. 

The  traveller  drew  nearer — raised  his  head  quickly :  and 
the  two  men  at  the  same  moment  recognized  each  othe?. 

The  new  comer  was  Mr.  Champ  Emngham. 


CHAPTER    V. 

TWO    ENEMIES. 

THE  two  men  looked  at  each  other  for  some  moments,  in  per 
fect  silence. 

Mr.  Effingham  was  much  changed : — his  face  was  thin 
ner,  and  had  more  character  in  it;  his  costume  was  more 
subdued  and  in  much  better  taste,  though  it  was  as  rich  as 
ever ;  and  his  whole  air  and  carriage  was  much  more  calm 
and  collected,  than  it  had  ever  been  before.  But  still  the  old 
weary  listless  shadow  in  the  eyes  remained :  and  one  might 
have  seen  on  a  closer  examination,  that  those  eyes  were  not  so 
brilliant  and  youthful  looking  as  before — that  this  man  must 
have  lived  long  in  a  very  short  time,  and — perforce  of  cram 
ming  passion,  so  to  speak,  into  his  life — grown  prematurely  old. 
The  eye  was  clear,  it  is  true — but  it  was  not  happy :  the  lipn 
were  as  handsome  as  ever;  but  two  diverging  lines  betrayed 
Buffering  and  thought : — the  pale  brow  was  not  so  smooth  as 


TWO    ENEMIES.  81 

it  had  been.     Mr.  Effingham  looked  like  a  man  who  had  ex 

hausted  all  stormy  emotions  and  become  calm  again : — not 
so  much  the  calmness  of  satisfied  desires,  as  the  slumber  of 
discordant  emotions. 

The  reader  may  imagine  from  these  few  words  of  hasty 
description,  that  this  man,  a  portion  of  whose  wild  career  we 
have  attempted  to  delineate,  had  lost  that  conspicuous  grace 
and  fire,  which  formerly  drew  all  eyes  toward  him : — that 
he  had  grown  old,  as  a  young  man  does,  by  wild  courses  and 
extraordinary  dissipation  : — that  Mr.  Effingham  had  no 
longer  any  marked  characteristic,  at  least  pleasant  charac 
teristic.  This  was  only  partially  true.  He  was  plainly  a 
man  of  far  more  character  than  ever — a  finer  cavalier,  every 
way  stronger,  so  to  speak,  than  before.  The  slight  stoop 
in  his  shoulders,  which  betrayed  the  intense  thinker,  gave  to 
his  figure  a  singular  nobleness  of  outline  ;  his  sword  was  worn 
with  a  grace  very  unlike  his  old  petit  maitre  habit;  his 
broad  brow,  no  longer  disfigured  with  a  wig,  rose  above  the 
thoughtful  eyes  like  a  tower :  his  costume,  as  we  have  said, 
was  rich  but  simple ;  and  to  sum  up  all  in  one  word,  Mr. 
Effingham  looked  like  a  man  who  had  suffered  and  grown 
harder,  and  as  a  consequence  of  that  suffering  and  new 
strength,  left  behind  many  of  his  youthful  follies : — and  so, 
achieved,  if  not  happiness,  at  least  calmness. 

The  Captain,  with  his  keen,  rapid  glance,  took  in  all  these 
details  at  once,  and  then,  with  a  haughty  inclination  of  his 
head,  was  about  to  pass  on. 

Mr.  Effingham  raised  his  hand,  and  with  great  calmness 
— though  a  slight  flush  rose  to  his  cheek,  as  he  spoke— 
said: 

"  Would  you  be  good  enough  to  give  me  a  moment  of 
your  time,  Captain  Waters  ?  I  have  something  to  say  to 
you." 

The  soldier  tightened  his  rein,  and  waited  in  silence  for 
his  companion  to  speak. 

"  This  is  a  meeting  which  I  have  long  desired,  sir,"  con 
tinued  Mr.  Effingham,  stroking  the  mane  of  his  horse. 

The  soldier  inclined  his  head  coldly,  without  speaking. 

"  I  can  easily  understand  that  my  face  is  not  agreeable 
to  you,  sir,"  continued  Mr.  Effingham,  in  the  same  courteous 
and  placid  tones  which  had  characterized  the  first  words 


32  TWO    ENEMIES. 

addressed  to  the  soldier.  "  I  do  not  complai  of  that :  1 
have  no  right  to.  It  were  singular  if  we  met  as  food  friends 
after  the  scenes  which  we  have  passed  through — or,  more 
properly  speaking,  those  between  Mr.  Charles  Waters  and 
myself.  I  do  not  expect  you  to  give  me  your  hand — I  do 
not  ask  that.  But  I  have  misunderstood  your  character, 
if,  after  the  few  words  I  have  to  say,  your  mind  and  heart 
remain  bitter — if  you  are  still  my  enemy." 

"  We  are  not  enemies,  sir,"  said  the  Captain,  joldly  • 
"  matters  are  all  ended — accounts  closed — we  are  indifferent 
to  each  other." 

"  Pardon  me,  sir :  but  that  cannot  be.  In  this  world 
persons  who  have  sustained  the  singular  relationship  toward 
each  other  which  we  have,  can  never  afterwards  be  wholly 
indifferent." 

"  You  had  something  to  say,  I  believe,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  I  shall  proceed  to  say  it,  resolutely  refus 
ing  to  adopt  the  tone  toward  yourself,  which  you  adopt  to 
ward  me.'' 

There  was  so  much  courtesy  and  dignity  in  these  words, 
that  Captain  Waters  felt  that  his  haughty  and  freezing  man 
ner  was  unreasonable. 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  insult  you,  Mr.  Effingham,"  he  said; 
"  we  are  nothing  to  each  other,  and,  morbleu !  have  I  not 
already  declared  that  I  do  not  regard  you  as  an  enemy." 

"  Well,  sir,  for  that  I  thank  you,''  said  Mr.  Effingham, 
as  calmly  and  courteously  as  before  ;  "  and  now,  sir,  let  me 
Bay  what  I  have  desired  to  utter,  in  the  hearing  of  your 
family,  for  a  long  time.  Let  me  briefly  tell  you — for  you 
perhaps  do  not  know  all — let  me  tell  you  the  nature  of  those 
events,  whose  disastrous  or  nearly  disastrous  climax  you  ar 
rived  in  time,  and  just  in  time  to  witness.  I  am  not  fond 
of  the  particle  '  I,'  and  beg  that  you  will  permit  me  to  adopt 
another  form. 

"  Well,  sir,  there  lived  a  year  or  two  ago,  near  this  place 
where  we  now  meet,  a  young  man  of  strong  passions  and  vio 
lent  impulses.  He  inherited  the  traits  of  his  family — strong 
feelings  under  an  indifferent  and  easy  exterior.  One  day 
that  young  man  met  with  a  girl — it  was  in  that  very  forest, 
sir,  which  you  have  just  emerged  from — a  young  girl  of  rare 
and  dazzling  beauty,  a  beauty  which  still  blinds  me  when  J 


TWO    ENEMIES.  33 

gaze  upon  it,  though  I  have  passed  through  much  to  distract 
the  mind  since  that  luminous  face  shone  on  me.  Well,  sir," 
continued  Mr.  Effingham,  whose  voice  for  a  moment  had 
changed  singularly — "  Well,  sir,  it  was  the  old  tale :  he 
loved  her — devotedly,  passionately,  madly :  so  madly  that 
he  even  now  doubts"  whether  it  was  not  a  species  of  madness 
that  strange,  wild  infatuation  ! 

"  He  approached  her,  and  told  her  rudely  and  carelessly, 
as  a  '  gentleman  '  so  called  speaks  to  an  actress,  that  ho 
loved  her.  He  thought  her  an  ordinary  comedienne,  such  as 
he  had  known  in  London — she  was  not  such  :  she  was  a  nohle 
girl,  as  pure  as  an  angel,  and  as  good  as  she  was  beautiful. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  she  told  him  that  there  could 
be  nothing  in  common  between  them — that  she  did  not  de 
sire  him  to  pay  her  attentions — that  she  did  not  wish  him  to 
approach  her.  Well,  he  raved  and  tore  his  hair,  and  suffer 
ed  dreadfully  when  he  heard  these  words — for  he  loved  her 
passionately.  He  left  his  family  and  became  a  member  of 
the  company  of  Comedians,  and  offered  her  his  hand — not 
once,  but  a  score  of  times.  She  still  refused  to  smile  upon 
him." 

Mr.  Effingham  paused  for  a  moment :  again  stroked  the 
mane  of  his  horse,  and  went  on  calmly. 

"  One  day  this  young  man  saw  a  rival  in  her  presence, 
and  read  in  her  blushes,  in  the  tones  of  her  voice,  in  her 
eyes,  that  this  rival  was  the  favored  one.  That  drove  him 
mad,  and  he  felt  that  thenceforth  all  was  lost  to  him :  spite  of 
his  love,  spite  of  his  abandoning  all  for  her,  spite  of  his  devo 
tion,  she  was  not  even  indifferent  to  him  he  saw.  She  trem 
bled  at  his  approach — as  the  dove  does  when  the  hawk  ap 
pears  : — she  shrunk  from  him  with  aversion.  You  may 
imagine,  sir,  that  this  added  to  his  infatuation  a  thousand 
fold  :  it  rose  to  such  a  height,  his  passion  and  consequent 
suffering  was  so  dreadful,  that  one  day  he  placed  the  muzzle 
of  a  pistol  to  his  brain  and  might  have  killed  himself,  had 
not  God  ordained  that  he  should  live.  God  interposed,  and 
for  a  moment,  a  single  moment,  he  was  calm, — for  a  moment 
3nly,  however." 

Again  the  young  man  paused,  and  the  Captain  saw  his 
eyes  wander.  He  continued : 

"  God  had  ordained  further,  sir,  that  his  own  act  should 
16 


34  TWO    ENEMIES, 

reveal  the  secret  of  the  young  girl's  birth,  a  strange  history  1 
and  by  so  doing  he  gave  his  rival  a  new  and  stronger  hold 
upon  her.  He  was  thenceforward  her  blood  relation — legal 
ly  and  morally  bound  to  protect  her. 

"  You  may  understand  now  how  that  unfortunate  man's 
passions  were  worked  up  to  the  point  of  desperation.  He 
loved  a  woman  with  a  species  of  infatuation ;  he  had  given 
up  every  thing  for  her :  she  was  about  to  be  torn  from  him 
by  a  successful  rival.  Is  not  that  a  powerful  combination 
of  unfortunate  circumstances,  sir  ?  Well,  this  combination 
was  what  assailed  that  man  in  a  weak  moment.  By  one  of 
those  accidents  which  seem  to  be  produced  by  the  direct 
agency  of  the  Devil,  the  tools  of  a  mad  scheme  appeared 
upon  the  tapis.  Two  boatmen — desperate  characters,  and 
ready  for  any  mischief — came  to  say  that  the  young  man's 
new  sail-boat  was  waiting  in  the  river — at  that  moment  his 
design  was  conceived  : — Yet  he  determined  to  give  the  young 
girl  a  last  opportunity  to  save  herself  and  him." 

Captain  Ralph  saw  a  shadow  cross  his  companion's  brow, 
and  pitied  his  suffering :  that  suffering  was  very  plain. 

"  He  went  to  her  and  threw  away  his  bitterness,"  con 
tinued  Mr.  Effingham,  calmly,  "  his  scoffs,  his  taunts.  He 
opened  his  poor  afflicted  heart  to  her  and  said,  '  I  love  you 
— I  suffer  cruelly — I  must  always  love  you — I  shall  die  un 
less  you  consent  to  become  my  wife  ! '  She  felt  sincere 
pity — she  was  suffering  herself — she  no  longer  looked  at 
me  coldly.  The  young  man — I  do  not  like  these  '  I's,'  sir — 
for  a  moment  hoped.  Vain  hope  ! — she  ended  with  a  pas 
sionate  refusal : — stung  by  his  taunts  she  declared  that 
nothing  would  induce  her  to  wed  a  man  like  him — she  could 
not,  would  not  marry  him  !  He  tore  his  bosom  with  desper 
ate  hands — it  was  not  the  first  time — and  rushed  from  the 
room. 

"In  half  an  hour  his  scheme  was  all  arranged.  The 
boatmen  were  directed  to  be  ready : — a  venal  parson  was 
near,  who  for  a  bribe  of  two  hundred  guineas  promised  tc 
wed  the  parties  without  asking  any  questions,  at  a  spot  down 
the  river  fixed  on. 

"  The  forcible  abduction  of  the  young  girl,  was  all  that 
remained  to  be  compassed.  He  raised  her  while  she  slept 
in  her  chair,  bore  her  to  the  ground,  and  carried  her  off ! 


TWO   ENEMIES.  35 

'  He  was  pursued — his  rival  was  the  pursuer — they  came 
together  on  the  river :  the  young  man's  confederates  were 
overcome  :  he  was  left  alone,  foiled,  beaten,  laughed  at.  His 
rival  raised  his  hand  to  strike — the  young  man's  sword 
pierced  his  breast,  Grod  be  thanked,  not  wounding  him  mor 
tally." 

The  Captain  nodded  in  approbation  of  this  sentiment. 

"  After  that  the  victim  of  infatuation — of  madness,  I 
may  nearly  say,"  Mr.  Effingham  went  on,  calmly,  "  left  the 
country,  and  went  into  foreign  lands,  with  blood  upon  his 
hands,  he  thought.  He  repented  bitterly — he  spent  days 
and  months  of  that  suffering  which  surpasses  all  the  rest — 
remorse.  At  length  he  found  in  time  and  thought  some 
alleviation,  and  his  peace  was  restored  completely^-can  you 
believe  it,  sir  ? — by  a  letter  saying  that  his  rival  had  re 
covered  from  his  wound. 

"  That  is  all,  sir : — except  that  the  unfortunate  man  who 
enacted  this  tragic  drama,  has  returned  to  the  scene  of  those 
unhappy  events  with  a  calmer  heart,  a  brain  no  longer  ob 
scured  by  the  mists  of  passion  and  pride.  That  man  now 
says  to  the  brother  of  his  rival — the  man  he  has  injured — 
'  I  have  repented  bitterly  of  all  this — I  have  no  pride  for 
you,  none  that  will  make  me  refuse  this  reparation  of  words 
all  which  I  have  to  offer — I  acknowledge  my  fault — I  de 
plore  the  suffering  which  I  occasioned.' 

u  This  is  what  I  had  to  say,  Captain  Waters,"  added 
Mr.  Effingham,  calmly  and  courteously,  as  before,  "  I  have 
said  it,  and  am  content  that  you  shall  fold  your  arms  in  your 
cloak,  and  refuse  to  touch  my  hand.  My  duty  is  done." 

"  Refuse  your  hand  ?  "  said  the  honest  soldier,  "  morbleu ! 
I  do  nothing  of  the  sort !  There  is  mine  1  I  hated  you 
mortally  until  this  moment :  now  I  assent,  and  will  maintain, 
that  you  are  a  worthy  gentleman  I  " 

And  Captain  Waters  forgetting  completely  all  his  enmity, 
shook  Mr.  Effingham's  hand  cordially. 

"  You  afford  me  a  pleasure,  which  I  have  not  experi 
enced  often  in  my  life,"  said  Mr.  Effingham,  with  noble  sim 
plicity. 

"  No  polite  speeches  1 "  said  the  soldier, "  we  understand 
each  other.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  I  would  cheerfully 
have  run  you  through  with  my  hanger,  for  your  treatment  of 


86  OLD   FRIENDS. 

Beatrice  and  Charley : — I  thought  it  was  all  mock  gene 
rosity,  when  they  said  this  very  thing  you  have  told  me,  that 
you  seemed  to  be  laboring  under  a  sort  of  infatuation.  Par- 
bleu  1  they  have  both  forgiven  you  long  ago :  why  should 
not  I  ? " 

"  I  am  sure  you  no  longer  regard  me  in  the  light  of  an 
enemy.  I  have  offered  you  an  explanation  which — " 

"  Is  perfectly  satisfactory  and  convincing,"  said  the  Cap 
tain,  with  his  frank,  jovial  voice. 

"  Where  are  they  now  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Effingham,  with  a 
slight  shadow  upon  his  brow. 

"  Who,  Charley  and  Beatrice  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Captain." 

"  Up  in  the  mountains." 

"  I  trust  they  are  quite  happy." 

And  his  eyes  seemed  to  be  fixed  upon  that  past,  which 
nad  gone  from  him  like  a  wild  dream.  He  could  scarcely 
realize  that  those  fiery  passions  had  burned  in  his  bosom. 

"  I  hope,  Captain  Waters,  that  we  shall  meet  frequently," 
Baid  Mr.  Effingham,  at  length ;  "  I  must  leave  you  now,  as  I 
have  just  arrived  in  Virginia.  Give  you  good  day,  sir." 

And  bowing  with  the  same  calm  air  as  before,  Mr.  Effing- 
ham  continued  his  way  toward  the  Hall,  while  Captain  Ralph 
went  in  the  opposite  direction. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OLD   FRIENDS. 

THE  Elverhead  chariot  rolled  lazily  up  to  Effingham  Hall, 
an  event  which  caused  the  sleepy-looking  pointer  basking  in 
the  sun  upon  the  portico,  to  rise  and  wag  his  tail,  in  sign  of 
indolent  satisfaction,  and  well-bred  welcome. 

The  Hall  has  no  longer  that  still,  slumberous,  melancholy 
air  about  it,  we  have  observed  upon  a  former  occasion  : — in 
deed,  the  very  reverse  is  the  fact.  Effinghani  Hall  has 
waked  up  with  the  spring — and  that  joyous  season,  continu 
ing,  as  in  Shakespeare's  time  to  "  put  a  spirit  of  youth  in 
everything,"  has  touched  with  its  merry  and  joyous  hand  the 


OLD  FRIENDS.  3? 

trees,  the  grass,  the  very  gables  of  the  old  manor-house,  and 
all  is  bright  and  cheerful. 

The  tall  old  trees,  with  their  tender  budding  leaves,  are 
rustling  in  the  merry  winds  of  March  : — the  sunshine  lies 
-like  a  glory  on  the  great  portico ;  and  the  lawn,  growing  al 
ready  green  and  soft,  is  dotted  with  a  thousand  flowers  which 
~aise  their  bright  heads  and  smile,  or  cheerily  shake  the 
lew  diamonds  from  their  gay  petals  when  the  breeze  agitates 
them. 

From  tree  to  tree  dart  the  early  songsters  of  spring,  mak 
ing  the  air  vocal  with  their  chirping : — and  it  is  very  plain 
that  more  than  one  courtship  is  going  on  in  the  tall  elm  yon 
der,  from  which  a  concert  by  delighted  blue  birds'  artists, 
incessantly  fills  the  air.  They  are  no  longer  "  prophesying 
spring,"  as  our  poet  says :  their  prophecy  is  fulfilled,  and 
they  are  rejoicing  like  so  many  able  editors,  who  have  fore 
told  events  and  seen  them  come  to  pass.  The  oriole  carols 
too,  above  them  all,  from  his  high  spray,  which,  swaying  back 
ward,  forward,  sideways,  in  the  wind — rocks  his  bright  gurg 
ling  throat  and  ruffled  feathers  gaily.  A  thousand  little 
swamp  sparrows  flit  about :  and  bear  up  twigs  from  the 
margin  of  the  sparkling  stream :  and  dart  after  each  other 
in  excess  of  glee ;  and  almost  tumble  over  each  other  in  the 
blue  mid  air,  from  pure  merriment. 

Dozens  of  negroes — ranging  from  little  ebon  balls,  clad 
in  unmentionable  costumes,  to  the  stately  white-haired  Catoa 
and  Dinahs — pass  about  from  out-house  to  out-house: — 
horses  are  led  in  long  rows  from  the  huge  stable  on  the  hill, 
toward  the  field : — dogs  roll  and  bark  and  meditate  with 
staring  eyes  upon  the  lawn  : — and  in  the  midst  of  all  a  flock 
of  dignified  geese  ambulate  like  great  seigneurs  with  their 
wives,  and  startle  with  their  cackle  all  the  stately,  serene 
peacocks,  who  with  brilliant  plumage  and  restless  movement 
of  their  burnished  necks  sail  slowly  onward — bright-crested 
swans  upon  an  emerald  sea. 

And  pleasanter  than  all — more  excellent  to  hear  and  look 
upon,  are  the  sights  and  sounds  from  the  Hall  itself. 

From  the  open  window  comes  the  merry  murmur  of  the 
harpsichord  and  a  child's  voice  full  of  tender  grace ;  adding 
a  splendor  to  the  time — the  perfect  merriment  which  nothing 
ever  affords  but  music.  And  then  the  music  stops,  and  there 


38  OLD   FRIENDS. 

appears  upon  the  portico  the  burly  figure  of  our  old  acquaint' 
ance,  the  squire,  who  finds  his  skirts  suddenly  grasped  ty 
laughing  hands,  and  two  merry  eyes,  as  azure  as  the  heavens, 
laugh  like  the  lips. 

The  squire  is  in  exuberant  health,  and  is  clad  just  as  we 
have  seen  him  before.  His  broad  plain  hat,  which  has  lost 
its  loops  and  is  rolled  up  shovel  fashion,  covers  a  face  red 
dened  and  embrowned  by  exercise  and  exposure  : — his  huge 
coat  brushes  against  his  strong  thick  silk  stockings,  which 
disappear  in  heavy  half-boots : — and  his  long  waistcoat  is 
nearly  covered  by  his  frill,  soiled  now  like  his  wide  cuffs  and 
stockings,  with  the  dust  of  his  fields.  The  squire  has  just 
-eturned  from  his  morning  ride  over  the  plantation,  and  has 
oeen  listening  to  Miss  Kate  Eflmgham  performing  upon  the 
harpsichord,  and  singing  one  of  his  favorite  airs.  She  now 
holds  him  back  by  the  skirts,  begging  him  to  wait  for  her. 

This  young  lady  may  possibly  still  dwell  in  the  reader's 
recollection.  She  has  scarcely  changed  at  all  since  we  saw 
her  last,  and  is  positively  not  a  bit  larger.  She  is  the  same 
bright  little  creature  with  sparkling  eyes,  and  rosy  cheeks, 
and  crimping  laughing  lips  which  are  the  color  of  cherries, 
and  reveal  when  their  owner  laughs,  a  row  of  small  teeth, 
much  whiter  than  pearls,  if  not  so  rounded  and  regular. 
Kate  is  dressed  almost  exactly  as  we  have  seen  her  formerly. 
Her  hair  is  still  unpowdered,  and  falls  in  curls  upon  her 
neck,  around  which  extends  a  foam  of  snowy  lace.  Her 
half-frock  half-coat,  with  its  embroidered  velvet  under-vest 
still  abbreviates  itself — after  the  fashion  of  the  time — in 
close  proximity  to  the  knee  :  and  the  same  scarlet  silk  stock 
ings,  plunge  themselves  into  the  identical  resetted,  red- 
heeled  shoes.  Kate  is  perhaps  merrier  than  we  ever  saw 
her,  and  when  she  demands  that  the  squire  shall  wait  for 
her  before  proceeding  to  assist  the  visitors  from  the  carriage, 
there  is  a  violent  contention  between  laughter  and  the  faculty 
of  articulation,  which  results  in  a  rush  and  jumble  of  the 
two,  which  puts  the  merriment  of  the  blue  birds  to  such 
shame  that  they  are  silent, 

"  Q-ood  morrow,  neighbor,"  says  the  squire,  assisting 
Henrietta  and  Clare  to  the  ground,  with  the  elegance  of  a 
perfect  courtier ;  "  and  you  my  little  mice,  how  are  your 
small  selves  ?" 


OLD   FRIENDS.  9 

With  which  the  squire  squeezes  Henrietta's  hand,  until 
ihe  screams. 

"  Thanks,  sir,"  says  the  laughing  girl ;  "  I  was  much 
better  before  I  saw  you  !  " 

And  she  shakes  her  hand,  upon  which  the  old  gentleman's 
fingers  have  left  distinct  white  marks. 

"  You  are  not  fond  of  having  your  hands  pressed  ? " 
laughs  the  squire. 

"  No,  sir." 

"  By  an  old  fellow  like  me,  I  mean — and  I  take  your 
reply  as  given  to  the  whole  question.  Well,  well,  I  believe 
you  are  right.  I  ain  rather  an  ancient  cavalier,  but  the  sight 
of  you  young  folks,  all  roses,  pleases  me." 

"  That  is  my  failing,  I  believe,"  says  Henrietta,  laughing, 
«  but  not  Clare's." 

"  No,"  says  the  squire,  "  and  I  am  sorry  to  see  your 
cheeks  so  much  like  lilies,  Clare." 

Clare  smiles. 

"  You  know  that  is  my  style,  sir,"  she  replies,  "  I  never 
had  a  bright  color,  but  I  am  quite  well" 

"  And  as  good  as  ever,  I  do  not  doubt,"  says  the  squire, 
as  they  enter  the  mansion  pleasantly. 

"  And  me,  sir — does  that  apply  to  me  ?  "  says  Henrietta, 
laughing. 

"  No,  madam." 

"  I  am  '  as  bad  as  ever,'  I  suppose." 

"  I  hope  not !  "  says  the  old  gentleman,  delighted  at  hip 
witticism. 

"  Thanks,  sir,"  Henrietta  replies,  with  exquisite  demure- 
ness,  "  thanks  for  an  excellent  character.  And  now  I  am 
going  to  leave  you  and  papa  to  discuss  your  deeply  inter 
esting  plantation  affairs,  and  take  off  my  hood." 

"  By  all  means.  I  cannot  see  your  pretty  face  now : — 
and  Clare  is  as  bad,  see !  I  believe  she  cannot  kiss  Kate 
for  her  huge  coiffure." 

And  the  squire,  laughing  gayly,  leads  the  way  into  the 
library,  followed  by  Mr.  Lee — leaving  the  young  ladies  in 
the  hands  of  Miss  Alethea,  who  has  just  emerged  from  the 
kitchen. 

Miss  Alethea  looks  more  placid  and  good-humored  than 
when  we  knew  her  formerly,  though  her  stateliness  has  not 


40  OLD  FEiENDS. 

in  the  least  changed : — and  she  comes  forward  and  kisses 
in  Virginia  fashion,  both  the  girls.  Then  they  are  led  awaj 
to  the  sanctum  up  stairs  to  remove  their  wrapping,  and  make 
their  toilettes  for  dinner. 

Seated  in  the  library,  the  old  gentlemen  discuss  matters 
in  general,  over  a  decanter  of  sherry :  and  dispute  with  the 
utmost  vehemence,  on  the  most  trifling  matters,  in  the  good 
old  way.  Both  are  fortified  in  their  opinions  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  they  deplore  each  the  other's  prejudices  and 
unreasonableness.  But  let  no  one  suppose  that  these  word- 
quarrels  were  not  the  most  friendly  contentions  imaginable 
There  were  no  better  friends  in  the  world,  and  they  were 
only  pursuing  the  immemorial  habit  of  Virginians  to  discuss, 
contradict,  and  argue  on  all  occasions. 

Some  of  these  contradictions  are  amusing,  and  rather 
vague. 

"  The  fact  is,  my  dear  sir,"  says  Mr.  Lee,  philosophically 
smoothing  down  his  waistcoat,  "  the  fact  is  that  after  all  we 
have  said,  and  after  all  that  can  be  said  on  this  point,  things 
are—" 

'  I  deny  it  1 "  says  the  squire,  vehemently,  "  they  are 
not !  " 

"  But  listen  now,"  continues  Mr.  Loe,  with  a  persuasive 
and  earnest  voice,  "  you  are  too  quick.  I  was  going  to  say, 
and  I  think  you  will  coincide  with  me — you  ought  to,  if  you 
do  not : — I  was  going  to  say  that  the  present  state  of  this 
country  is  such  that  these  men  will — " 

"  No  !  I  join  issue  with  you  there,"  interposes  the  squire, 
argumentatively,  "  they  will  do  no  such  thing,  and  I  am 
surprised  to  hear  you  say  it !  " 

"  I  have  not  said  it  yet  1 " 

"  You  have." 

"  What  have  I  said  ?  " 

"  You  said,  that  considering  the  present  state  of  Ens 
land—" 

"  No  i  of  this  country." 

"You  said  England!'' 

"  Positively  I  did  not." 

And  so  the  argument  goes  on,  thick  set  with  contradic 
tions  and  dogmatical  assertions. 

At  laat — the  worthies  having  glided  gradually  from  the 


OLD    FRIENDS.  41 

rude  highway  of  politics,  into  the  pleasant  paths  of  neigh« 
borhood  gossip — the  conversation  grows  quite  friendly  and 
placid  again,  and  there  are  no  more  contradictions : — those 
weapons  being  made  use  of  exclusively  in  polemics.  They 
talk  of  the  races  to  be  held  soon  at  the  course  between  Wil- 
liamsburg  and  Jamestown: — of  the  probable  entries: — of 
the  amount  of  subscription,  and  the  chances  of  Sir  Archy's 
overcoming  Fair  Anna  or  Dare  Devil.  From  this  they  pass 
to  county  court  matters,  and  the  demoralizing  effect  of  the 
absence  of  game-laws.  This  leads  the  squire  to  descant  at 
length,  and  in  a  tone  of  indignant  reprehension,  upon  the 
course  of  the  defendant  in  a  certain  chancery  suit,  by  the 
style  of  "  Effingbam  et  al.  vs.  Jonas  Jackson,  sheriff  of 
York  county,  and  as  such,  administrator  de  bonis  non,  with 
the  will  annexed,  of  John  Jones,  dec'd."  This  affords  the 
squire  an  opportunity  to  express  his  opinion  of  the  high  court 
of  chancery,  which  he  does  at  some  length,  and  with  refresh 
ing  frankness  and  directness. 

So  completely  absorbed  is  the  worthy  gentleman  in  this 
interesting  subject,  that  he  quite  loses  sight  of  a  piece  of 
information  which  he  has  been  on  the  point  of  giving  his 
visitor,  for  some  moments.  Let  us  leave  him  vituperating 
the  whole  system  of  equity,  and  enter  the  adjoining  apart- 
ment — the  drawing-room — from  which  the  merry  music  of 
the  harpsichord  is  heard.  Perhaps  we  shall  be  able  to  find 
out  from  others  the  nature  of  this  intelligence. 

Clare  sits  at  the  harpsichord  playing,  and  little  Kate, 
perched  upon  a  cricket  at  her  side,  is  turning  over  the  leaves 
of  the  music — while  Miss  Alethea  and  Henrietta  exchange 
neighborhood  gossip,  near  the  opposite  window. 

Clare  finishes  the  piece  she  is  playing,  and  turning  her 
quiet,  good-natured  face  toward  Kate,  says,  smoothing  back 
the  child's  locks  as  she  speaks  : 

"  Is  that  the  piece  you  wished  me  to  play,  Katy  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  says  Kate,  her  eyes  sparklir\g,  u  and  now 
you  mustn't  play  any  more — for  I  have  a  great  piece  of  news 
to  tell  you  !  " 

And  the  child's  eyes  fairly  dance,  as  she  draws  a  letter 
from  beneath  her  girdle. 

"  A  great  piece  of  news  ? "  asks  Clare,  with  a  smile, 
"  what  is  it,  pray  ?  " 


"  Guess  1  "  says  Kate,  covering  the  letter  with  her  hand 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  a  poor  hand  at  guessing,  dear,"  re 
plies  Clare. 

"  Can't  you  think  ? "  persists  Kate,  with  a  joyous  rush 
of  laughter  in  her  voice : — for  if  Kubini  had  tears  in  his 
voice,  it  may  be  said  that  Kate  had  laughter  in  hers : 
14  can't  you  think  now,  cousin  Clare — just  try,  now." 

"  Well,"  says  Clare,  smiling  at  the  brilliant  face  of  the 
child,  "  has  Will  written  you  a  love  letter,  and  asked  your 
hand?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  Kate  replies,  pouting  like  a  duchess,  u  he 
asks  me  to  marry  him  twenty  times  a  day." 

"  Indeed ! » 

"  Yes,  indeed  :  he's  a  dreadful  plague.  But  come,  now 
cousin  Clare,  guess  again." 

"  Let  me  see  :  you  have  a  letter,  that  is  plain." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  this  letter  contains  the  news  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  cousin  Clare." 

"  Good  news  ?  " 

«  Oh  yes,  indeed  1 " 

"  Of  what  sort  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  now  that  would  be  telling  you,  you  know.  But 
I'll  see  if  you  can  guess  it  then.  Somebody's  coming  I  " 

And  Kate's  eyes  dance  again  :  while  a  shadow  suddenly 
passes  over  the  tender  face  of  her  companion. 

"  Somebody  coming  ?  "  murmurs  Clare ;  "  I  think  I 
can  guess  now — " 

"  I  knew  you  could  1 " 

"  Mr.  Emngham  is  coming  back  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes  !  cousin  Champ  1  See,  here  is  his  letter  from 
London.  Look,  what  a  funny  mark  upon  it : — he  says  he 
will  be  here  early  in  April,  and  this,  you  know,  is  the  first 
week  of  March." 

And  Kate  clasps  her  hands. 

"  Shall  I  read  it  ?  "  she  says. 

Clare  shakes  her  head  sadly. 

"  Then  you  may  yourself,  cousin,"  says  Kate,  offering 
the  opened  letter ;  "  I  know  cousin  Champ  wouldn't  care 
for  your  seeing  it." 

But  Clare  puts  the  offered  letter  aside  with  her  hand. 


OLD  FRIENDS.  43 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  like  to  read  it,  you  can  listen  just 
to  this.  He  says  he  may  be  here  even  sooner  than  April. 
Just  think  !  We'll  have  the  dear  old  fellow  back  so  soon, 
and  he'll  have  so  much  to  tell  me,"  adds  Kate,  with  a 
queenly  little  air  ;  "  you  know  how  much  we  love  each  oth 
er." 

Suddenly  the  letter  is  removed  from  Kate's  hand,  and 
the  voice  of  a  youthful  gentleman,  who  has  entered  unper 
ceived,  says  petulantly : 

"  There  you  are,  praising  brother  Champ  again.  It  is 
really  vexatious,  Kate." 

And  Mr.  Willie  Effingham  looks  mortified  and  indig 
nant.  This  young  gentleman  has  scarcely  changed  more 
than  Kate,  and  is  clad  at  present  in  a  handsome  little  pearl- 
colored  cocked  hat,  resetted  shoes,  a  coat  with  a  rounded 
skirt,  and  a  bright  scarlet  waistcoat.  His  right  hand  grasps 
a  riding  whip,  and  on  the  floor  at  his  feet  lies  a  school-book, 
which  he  has  dropped  to  take  possession  of  the  letter. 

"  It  is  really  too  bad,"  says  Will,  allowing  Kate  to  re 
possess  herself  of  the  letter,  without  much  struggling ;  "  I 
believe  you're  in  love  with  brother  Champ." 

"  I  am  so,"  says  Kate,  "  and  you're  jealous,  Willie  1 " 

With  which  words  the  young  lady  laughs,  to  the  great 
annoyance  of  her  cavalier. 

"  Jealous,  am  I  ?  "  says  Will ;  "  that's  all  the  thanks  I 
get  for  giving  up  the  game  of  Prisoner's  base  after  school, 
and  coming  home  to  see  you.  Never  mind  1 " 

And  Will  shakes  his  head. 

"  Did  you,  now  ?  "  asks  Kate,  touched  by  this  piece  of 
devotion. 

"  Yes,  I  did." 

"  Well,  let's  make  up,  Willie." 

"  Then  give  me  a  kiss." 

"  Indeed  I  wont  1 "  cries  Kate ;  and  she  struggles  to 
avoid  the  proffered  embrace. 

"  Heyday  !  "  says  the  voice  of  the  squire  at  the  door, 
as  that  gentleman  enters  with  Mr.  Lee  ;  "  fighting  I  Is  it 
possible,  Will  ?  " 

Will  ceases  to  struggle :  but  abstains  from  any  explana 
tion 

u  We  were  not  fighting,  papa ;  but  he  wanted  to  kiss  me, 


44  OLD   FRIENDS. 

and  you  know  it  is  not  proper  for  young  ladies  of  my  age  to 
kiss  gentlemen — is  it  ?  " 

And  Kate  throws  a  fatal  glance  from  her  brilliant  eyes 
towards  Willie,  who,  seeing  the  prize  snatched  from  his 
grasp,  utters  a  sigh. 

The  squire  laughs,  and  asks  the  child  "  What  letter 
that  is  ?  " 

"  Cousin  Champ's,  you  know,  papa." 

"  Yes,  yes  :  I  was  just  telling  neighbor  Lee,"  the  squire 
says  to  Clare,  "  that  Champ  was  coming  back  soon." 

The  hoofstrokes  of  a  horse  sound  on  the  gravel  walk, 
but  they  do  not  hear  them. 

"  He  writes,"  adds  the  squire,  addressing  himself  equal 
ly  to  Clare  and  Henrietta,  "  that  we  may  expect  him  early 
in  April — sooner,  perhaps." 

A  spur  sounds  on  the  portico,  but  the  harpsichord,  which 
Clare  touches  softly  and  absently  with  her  finger,  drowns 
the  noise. 

"  Kate,  here,  has  taken  possession  of  the  letter  as  her 
rightful  property,"  continues  the  squire,  "  and  offers  to  ex 
hibit  it,  I  believe,  to  every  body — the  little  minx.  Thej 
were  great  friends." 

The  shadow  of  a  man  falls  upon  the  passage. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  glad  to  see  the  boy ;  and  God  grant  him 
a  safe  passage  to  the  old  Hall  again." 

As  the  squire  speaks,  Kate  utters  a  delighted  scream 
and  in  a  moment  rushes  to  the  arms  of  a  gentleman  who 
stands  upon  the  threshold. 

"  God  has  already  granted  that,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Effing- 
ham. 

And  amid  a  burst  of  exclamations,  he  enters  the  apart 
ment. 

We  need  not  describe  the  scene  which  followed  the  en 
trance  of  Mr.  Effingham  : — how  the  squire  did  little  more 
than  press  his  hand,  and  gaze  delighted  on  his  face  : — how 
Clare  tried  in  vain  to  still  her  agitated  and  throbbing  heart 
— how  the  rest  of  the  group  "verwhelmed  the  young  man 
with  a  thousand  congratulations.  The  reader  may  fancy  all 
this  with  less  trouble  than  we  could  describe  it.  We  must 
leave  to  fancy,  too,  tke  crowd  of  bright-faced  Africans,  who 
jostled  each  other  at  the  door : — the  uproarious  chanting  of 


CAPTAIN  RALPH  LAYS  HIS  COMMANDS  ON  MR.  LtfOG.         45 

"  Oho — oho— oho— oho  I 
Mas'  Champ  come  home  agin  1  " 

which  rose  from  the  lawn,  after  the  fashion  of  the  time  and 
place. 

Yes,  Mr.  Champ,  after  all  his  weary  wanderings,  had  re 
turned  to  his  good  old  home. 


CHAPTER     VII, 

HOW  CAPTAIN  RALPH  LAID  HIS  COMMANDS  ON  MB.  LUGO. 

LANKY  1 " 

«  Sur  ?  » 

"  You're  a  villain." 

"  Oh,  Cap'n  !  » 

"  A  most  unconscionable  villain  ! " 

"  Oh  no  I  ain't,  Cap'n." 

"  You  are,  you  rascal !     Don't  contradict  me  1 w 

"  I  didn't,  Cap'n." 

"  You  did." 

"I  didn't,  Cap'n." 

"  There  is  a  pretty  proof  of  it :  you  are  contradicting 
me  now,  you  villain  !  I'll  cut  off  your  ears  1 " 

"  Oh,  Cap'n  !  " 

And  Lanky  raises  his  hand  affectionately  toward  his  au 
ricular  appendages,  with  a  dreadful  conviction  that  their 
size  and  prominence  would  render  them  an  easy  prey  to  the 
enemy. 

Captain  Ualph  addressed  the  above  emphatic  words  to 
Mr.  Lugg  two  or  three  days  after  the  scones  which  we  have 
just  described.  The  worthy  soldier  was  sitting  after  break 
fast,  with  a  meerschaum  between  his  lips,  with  his  feet  in 
close  proximity  to  the  hook  fixed  in  the  beam  above  the 
great  fireplace  of  his  mansion.  From  time  to  time,  clouds 
of  snowy  smoke  would  issue  from  beneath  his  huge  mous 
tache,  and  rise  in  circles  to  the  rafters  overhead,  upon  which 
the  red  beams  of  the  morning  sun  reposed,  turning  the 
dusty  timbers  into  bars  of  gold. 

Lanky  sat  as  usual,  in  his  chimney  corner,  and  from  time 


46         CAPTAIN  RALPH  LAYS  HIS  COMMANDS  ON  MR.  LUGO. 

to  time  touched  furtively  the  strings  of  an  old  battered  rio« 
tin,  which  lay  upon  his  knees  : — gazing  all  the  while  into  the 
blaze,  which  drove  away  the  cool  river  mist  with  its  crack 
ling  laughter. 

The  Captain  looked  at  his  retainer  for  some  moments  in 
silence,  after  the  outburst  we  have  faithfully  chronicled 
above ;  then  added  : 

"  Play  that  reel  again — " 

Aiid  the  Captain,  stopping  to  smoke  a  moment,  Lanky 
raised  his  violin  with  alacrity  to  obey  his  master's  bidding. 

— "  If  you  dare,  you  rascal ! "  finished  the  Captain, 
whose  sentence  had  been  broken  off  in  the  middle.  Lan 
ky 's  arm  subsided  immediately,  and  the  fiddle  fell  back  to 
its  former  position  on  his  knees. 

"  Raly,  Cap'n,"  said  Lanky,  scratching  his  head,  "  no 
body  can't  please  you.  Now  you  know  you  told  me,  bein 
as  you  gin  me  a  holiday  to-day,  to  bring  out  my  fiddle  and 
scrape  for  you.  And  now,"  added  Lanky,  with  an  injured 
air,  "  you're  a  tellin'  me  that  I  dasn't  play  no  more.  Oh, 
Cap'n ! » 

And  after  this  stereotyped  protest,  Lanky  remained  si 
lent. 

"  I  told  you  to  play,  because  I  wanted  to  hear  music, 
parbleu  1 "  said  the  Captain,  "  but  that  was  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  ago.  I  have  changed  my  mind.  I  don't  believe  you 
are  much  of  an  artist,  with  all  your  distinguished  reputation 
in  the  neighborhood.  You  scrape  horribly,  and  your  in 
strument  is  an  awful  one." 

Lanky,  though  deeply  hurt  and  indignant  at  this  double 
attack  on  his  violin  and  his  reputation,  did  not  answer. 
"  Oh,  Cap'n  1 "  was  all  that  his  muttering  lips  enunciated. 

At  the  end  of  ten  minutes,  Captain  Ralph  laid  aside 
his  meerschaum,  and  stretched  his  legs. 

"  Lanky,"  he  began. 

"  Sur  ?  " 

The  Captain  paused  for  some  moments,  yawning. 

"  When  did  you  see  Donsy  Smith  ?  "  he  asked,  at  length. 

Lanky  started. 

"  Oh,  Cap'n,"  he  said,  "  I  ain't  seen  that  ere  young 
'ooman  for  a  month  o*  Sundays." 

"  Have  you  quarrelled  ?  " 


CAPTAIN  EAL  PH  LAYS  HIS  COMMANDS  ON  MR.  LDOO.         47 

"  No,  sir." 
"  A  rival  ?  " 

Lanky  groaned. 

"  What  horrible  sound  was  that  which  issued  from  your 
diaphragm,  you  villain  ?  "  asked  the  Captain. 

"  I  never  said  nothin',  BUT." 

"  You  sighed." 

"  Did  I,  Cap'n  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  do  you  know  what  these  '  heighos  '  mean  ?  " 

«  He'o's,  sur  ?  " 

"  These  sighs,  you  rascal  ?  " 

"  No,  sur." 

"  They  signify  that  one  is  deeply  smitten  by  some  an 
gelic  fair  one.  Eh  ?  do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  does,  sur." 

"  When  I  said  '  have  you  a  rival  ? '  you  sighed,  or  rather 
groaned.  Now  I  understand  from  that,  that  you  are  far 
gone." 

"  Oh,  Cap'n." 

"  Come,  now,  you  have  a  rival  ?  " 

"  I  b'lieve  I  has,"  said  Lanky,  piteously,  but  beginning 
to  saw  his  head  from  north-east  to  south-west,  according  to 
his  habit. 

The  Captain  observed  this  favorite  manoeuvre,  and  be 
gan  to  laugh. 

"  You  have  a  rival,  eh  ?  "  he  said ;  "  a  successful  one  ?  " 

"  I  dun'no,  sur." 

And  Lanky  groaned  again,  and  sawed  his  head  worse 
than  ever.  The  Captain  twirled  his  moustache  with  a  de 
lighted  look. 

"  Listen  to  me  now,  Lanky,"  he  said,  bursting  into 
laughter ;  "  listen  to  mj  advice,  man  ami.  Here  you  are 
groaning  and  sighing,  and  declaring  in  your  delicious  patois 
that  you  have  not  seen  your  dulcinea  for  ages  : — you  are 
plainly  in  high  dudgeon,  and  have  abandoned  the  field. 
Now,  sir,  hear  what  I  have  to  say.  No  retainer  of  mine 
shall  disgrace  me  by  succumbing  to  a  woman — laying  down 
his  arms  because  the  bastion  frowns  with  guns,  instead  of 
being  wreathed  with  flowers.  Tonnere  !  you  villain,  it  is  a 
personal  slight  upon  myself,  and  I  won't  have  you  give  up 
in  this  way  to  your  little  Donsy,  who  is  only  coquetting  with 
you  1  Do  you  hear,  sir  ?  " 


48        CAPTAIN  RALPH  LAYS  HIS  COMMANDS  ON  ME.  LUGO. 

"What  kin  I  do,  Cap'n?  I  can't  do  nothin,"  sighed 
Lanky. 

"  There  it  is,  again — with  your  eternal  groaning  I  Be  a 
man,  you  rascal,  or,  parbleu !  I'll  hang  you  by  the  legs  to 
the  rafters ! " 

Lanky  started  at  this  terrible  threat,  and  took  a  bhd's- 
eye  view  of  matters,  coming  to  the  irresistible  conclusion 
that  the  posture  suggested  by  his  master  would  not  only  be 
disagreeable,  but  would  have  the  effect  of  adding  a  new  and 
undesired  charm  to  the  landscape. 

"  Oh,  sur  !  "  he  ejaculated. 

"  Now  listen,"  said  the  Captain,  "  and  do  not  sit  there 
moaning  and  groaning,  sighing  and  crying,  when  as  a  brave 
man  you  should  buckle  on  your  sword — figuratively  speak 
ing — and  advance  upon  the  enemy.  What  is  that  ejemy  ? 
That,  morbleu  !  is  the  first  question  with  every  courageous 
and  rational  soldier.  In  the  present  instance  -a  woman — i 
young  woman,  or  as  you  say  in  your  barbarous  dialect—- 
'  young  'ooman.'  Now,  sir,  I  commence  by  laying  down  the 
proposition  that  every  member  of  the  fair  sex  may  be  over 
come  by  well-directed  and  courageous  generalship.  They 
of  course,  despise  a  mere  sighing,  lachrymose  lover,  with  his 
heart  in  his  hand,  and  a  propensity  for  moonlight  and  solil 
oquy  : — basta  I  I  am  throwing  away  my  philosophy  on  youi 
thick  head !  What  do  you  know  about  soliloquies  and 
moonlight ! " 

And  the  Captain  paused. 

"  I  dori  t  know  nothin'  'bout  slil'kees,"  observed  Lanky 
"  but  I  hunts  'coons  by  moonlight,  sometimes." 

"  You  unsentimental  villain  !  "  said  the  soldier,  "  are 
you  not  ashamed  of  yourself,  to  mix  up  the  divine  senti 
ment  with  'coons — as  you  barbarously  term  it : — to  mingle 
tendresse  with  the  consideration  of  furs  I  " 

"  You  was  goin'  to  give  me  some  advice,  Cap'n,"  said 
Lanky,  desirous  of  averting  the  Captain's  indignation. 

"  Well,  you  villain  :  in  place  of  advice,  I  give  you  com 
mands  1  I  command  you  to  resume  offensive  operations  im 
mediately,  and  yield  not  one  point." 

Lanky  looked  dubious :  these  generalities  were  plainly 
distasteful  to  him,  since  he  did  not  very  clearly  comprehend 
their  meaning. , 


CAPTAIN  RALPH  LAYS  HIS  COMMANDS  ON  MR.  !UOG.         49 

"  Oh,  Cap'n  !  I  dun'no  what  that  means,"  he  said. 
"  It  means  this,  you  villain  !  When  Donsy  or  any  other 
young  lady  endeavors  to  turn  you  around  her  thumb,  to 
make  you  do  just  as  she  desires,  to  wheedle,  and  coax,  and 
bring  you  over — resist,  morbleu  !  Yield  not  a  single  point, 
as  I  said  before ! — never  yield  a  point  to  one  of  the  fair  sex , 
for  observe,  you  pine  knot !  the  ambitious  desire  to  rule  in 
these  enchanting  creatures,  closely  resembles  a  body  of  wa 
ter  pent  in  by  a  dam.  Give  it  but  one  little  point  to  issue 
through,  and  diable  !  it  rushes  on,  and  carries  all  before  it. 
Never  yield  to  women — it  is  a  bad  precedent :  respect  them, 
love  them,  fight  for  them,  die  for  them, — but  never  yield  to 
them,  you  unreasonable  villain  !  En  avant  !  with  a  brave 
heart,  and  without  thought  of  surrender : — ask  no  terms, 
yield  in  nothing :  refuse  to  see  brilliant  eyes,  to  listen  to 
coaxing  words ;  close  your  heart  obdurately,  and  victory  is 
yours  !  Bah  I  "  continues  the  Captain,  "  here  am  I  advis 
ing  you  as  to  your  course,  when  the  first  advice  should  be 
to  show  your  nose  to  your  sweetheart :  how  can  she  respect 
such  a  lover.  As  your  master,  sir,  I  command  you  to  go 
and  make  yourself  agreeable  to  your  sweetheart,  and  not 
disgrace  me  by  giving  up  the  battle  in  this  way." 
Lanky  touched  the  violin  absently. 
"  But  how  kin  it  be  done,  Cap'n  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  ain't 
giv'  up :  I  never  intends  to  giv'  up  1  But  oh,  Cap'n,  when 
a  feller  feels  all  sorts  o'  ways,  how  can  he  make  hisself  agree 
able  ?  " 

The  Captain  laughed  heartily.     Lanky  took  courage  at 
this,  and  continued,  sawing  his  head  : 

"  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  giv'  up !     No  I  ain't  1     He's  too 
young  for  her,  and  'sides,  he  ain't  as  good  lookin'  as  I  am." 
"  Who— your  rival  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sur." 

'  Who  is  he  ?  " 

1  Will  Efii'um." 

The  Captain  burst  into  a  tremendous  laugh, 

4  What,  that  little  fellow,  Lanky  ?  "  he  said. 

4  Yes,  sur." 

4  Morbleu  !  you  astonish  me." 

4  You  know  Donsy  goes  to  school  to  the  parson,  «w, 
ind  so  does  Will  Efn'um.' 


50  ICHABOD. 

"  There  near  town  ?  " 

"  Yes,  BUT." 

"  Well,  now,  I  command  you  to  enter  the  field  at  once, 
and  prosecute  hostilities,"  said  the  Captain.  "  Go,  you  ras 
cal !  I  give  you  a  holiday." 

Lanky  rose,  with  his  fiddle  under  his  arm. 

"  Won't  your  honor  want  your  horse  'i  "  he  said,  scratch 
ing  his  head. 

"  Yes — morbleu  !  I  forgot.  I  must  go  and  fight  G-latz 
for  mon  ami  over  there.  Saddle  Selim." 

"  Yes,  sur." 

And  Lanky  went  out.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Captain 
Ralph  was  riding  towards  Riverhead,  singing  merrily  one 
of  his  numerous  repertory  of  camp  ditties ;  and  Lanky, 
having  first  smoothed  his  hair,  by  means  of  a  coarse  comb, 
and  a  triangular  bit  of  looking-glass,  was  proceeding,  with 
his  violin  under  his  arm,  toward  the  town  of  Williamsburg. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

ICHABOD:   A  HEBREW  WORD  SIGNIFYING   THE  GLORY  HAB  DE 
PARTED  1 

WE  shall  follow  Lanky. 

He  threaded  the  paths  of  the  forest,  traversed  the  tracts 
of  waste  land,  and  hit  the  points  where  the  brooks  were 
crossed  by  logs,  stretched  for  the  convenience  of  pedestrians 
from  bank  to  bank,  with  unerring  precision.  No  doubt 
those  moonlight — but  not  sentimental — excursions  dis 
coursed  of  to  the  Captain,  had  made  him  familiar  with  all 
the  devious  ways  of  the  country  ride ;  and  so  ere  long  he 
drew  toward  the  school-house,  which  was  situated  in  an  open 
glade  of  the  forest  between  Williamsburg  and  Effingham 
Hall. 

The  "  old  field  school,"  as  these  establishments  have 
been  called  from  time  immemorial,  was  a  plain  edifice  of 
logs  of  some  size,  and  roofed  with  boards  held  in  their  places 
by  long  poles  pinned  to  the  eaves  by  huge  pegs.  The  win 
dows  were  small,  and  secured  by  shutters  of  oak,  heavy  and 
creaking  on  their  hinges.  A  log  served  for  a  step  before 


ICHABOD.  0* 

the  half  open  door,  and  from  the  chimney,  which  was  of 
stone,  and  built  up  outside  of  the  edifice,  a  slight  curling 
smoke  rose.  To  these  schools,  as  at  the  present  day,  chil 
dren  of  all  ages  and  classes,  and  of  both  sexes,  resorted — • 
for  education,  their  parents  thought,  for  amusement,  the 
youngsters  were  convinced. 

But  Lanky — sawing  his  head,  and  picking  absently  on 
the  strings  of  his  violin — did  not  look  at  the  school-house, 
as  he  approached.  His  eyes  -were  fixed  upon  the  groups  of 
scholars  of  both  sexes  scattered  through  the  glade  in  merry 
play — and  particularly  upon  one  group,  in  the  centre  of 
which  stood,  with  laughing  eyes  and  ruddy  cheeks,  half  cov 
ered  by  the  owner's  sun-bonnet,  a  young  girl  of  some  six 
teen  summers.  Lanky's  sudden  accession  of  rapidity  in  the 
sawing  operation,  plainly  betrayed  his  secret.  That  was  the 
lady  of  his  heart,  and  his  admiring  eyes  surveyed  with  true 
lover  minuteness,  her  neat  plain  drese,  her  careless  locks  of 
glossy  black,  and  the  firm  little  foot  in  its  plain  strong  shoe. 

Miss  Smith  was,  as  we  have  said,  the  centre  of  a  group 
of  maidens — and  these  maidens  were  gazing  with  delight 
upon  a  parcel  of  youngsters,  who,  ranged  in  a  long  row  with 
their  faces  towards  Lanky,  listened  to  the  oracular  observa 
tions  of  their  chieftain,  whose  back  was  thus  turned  toward 
our  friend.  The  youngsters  were  clad  in  semi-military  cos 
tume,  with  paper  hats,  girdles  of  fluttering  ribbon ;  and 
each  one  carried  martially  erect  upon  his  shoulder,  some 
thing  to  represent  a  gun — whether  that  something  chanced 
to  be  a  hickory  stick,  a  portion  of  a  fence  rail,  or  a  corn 
stalk.  The  corn-stalks,  however,  predominated,  and  seemed 
to  be  the  favorite  weapon. 

The  young  chieftain  was  clad  with  something  more  of 
pretension  :  he  wore  epaulettes,  at  his  side  hung  a  tin  sword 
gracefully,  and  on  his  head  was  perched  a  conical  hat  made 
of  the  paper  which  had  once  enveloped  a  loaf  of  sugar — 
now  decorated  with  ribbons,  and  sacred  to  Mars. 

The  chieftain  held  his  head  erect,  and  addressed  his  ob 
servations  to  the  company,  with  great  importance,  though 
many  of  the  troop  were  his  elders.  As  we  have  said,  the 
young  maidens  stood  looking  up,  and  encouraging  the  sol 
diers  with  their  smiles  ; — upon  the  conviction,  it  would  seem, 
that  being  handsome,  chivalric,  and  brave,  they  deseived  the 
approbation  of  the  fair. 


52  ICHABOD. 

This  was  the  state  of  things,  as  nearly  as  we  can  describe 
it,  when  Lanky  sauntered  up,  with  his  violin  under  his  arm. 
No  sooner  had  the  young  maidens  caught  sight  of  the  well 
known  pine  knot  head,  the  ornamental  stockings,  the  huge 
shoes,  above  all,  of  the  battered  violin,  than  they  abandoned 
the  youthful  disciples  of  the  god  of  war,  and  ran  precipi 
tately  towards  Lanky,  crying  out  as  they  ran,  for  a  tune  and 
a  dance. 

*  Oh  yes  !  now,  Lanky  1 " 

"  Play  us  a  tune  1  " 

"  A  reel !  " 

"  Let  us  have  a  dance." 

"  Not  a  reel !  " 

"  A  May  dance  !  " 

"  Both  !  " 

And  Lanky  suddenly  found  himself  assailed  by  a  dozen 
maidens,  and  ordered  to  strike  up  immediately.  In  propor 
tion  to  Lanky's  popularity,  and  satisfaction  therefrom,  was 
the  neglect  and  excessive  dissatisfaction  of  the  youthful 
soldiers.  The  smiles  of  ladies  fair,  are  proverbially  valu 
able  to  gentlemen  of  the  military  profession ;  and  the  reader 
may  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  cornstalk  regiment,  and 
their  proud  commander,  at  finding  themselves  thus  abruptly 
deserted,  with  all  their  shining  graces,  for  a  common  coun 
try  bumpkin,  with  a  caricature  head,  a  battered  violin,  and  a 
pair  of  feet  which  were  beyond  the  power  of  pen  or  pencil 
to  exaggerate. 

The  youthful  chieftain,  whom  we  now  beg  leave  to  intro 
duce,  as  Captain  William  Efiinghani,  "  of  the  Cornstalk 
Company  of  Virginia  Volunteers,"  his  enemies  added — Mr. 
Willie  Effingharn  was  perhaps  the  most  indignant  of  all.  He 
had  just  commenced  a  splendid  and  stirring  oration,  which 
dealt  in  tremendous  denunciation  of  the  acts  of  Parliament 
and  King  George,  in  relation  to  the  colony  of  Virginia,  and 
finding  himself  the  centre  of  a  circle  of  admiring  auditors, 
had  branched  out  with  a  vigor  and  splendor  of  rhetoric, 
which  was  calculated  to  procure  his  arrest  as  a  dangerous 
and  inflammatory  rebel,  when  the  untoward  event  which  we 
have  just  related,  happened.  To  add  to  his  mortification, 
his  own  sweetheart,  as  he  called  Miss  Donsy  Smith,  had 
joined  the  deserters  j  she  had  been  listening  V)  his  oratioo 


ICHABOD.  53 

with  admiring  attention,  he  thought :  he  was  doing  the  he 
roic  in  presence  of  his  ladylove — and  now,  for  all  this,  to  be 
abandoned  without  hesitation,  for  the  aforesaid  country 
bumpkin.  It  was  horrible  ! 

Lanky  resisted  the  entreaties  of  his  maiden  friends,  and 
sawed  his  head  more  vigorously  than  ever  at  Donsy. 

"  Now,  Lanky!"  said  that  young  lady,  with  an  expres 
sion  of  coquettish  entreaty,  "  I  know  you  won't  refuse  me  ! " 

"  Hum  !  "  said  Lanky. 

"  Now,  Lanky  !  " 

"  Miss  Donsy,  you  ain't  treated  me  well,  and  you  know 
it ! "  he  said,  touching  the  strings  of  his  instrument 

"  /  not  treated  you  well  ?     My  goodness  !  " 

"  You  know  you  haven't." 

"How,  Lanky?" 

"  Never  mind  I  " 

"  Oh,  it's  too  bad  in  you,"  said  the  young  lady,  "  to  re 
fuse  me — and  I  liking  you  so  much." 

With  which  Donsy  darted  a  killing  glance  at  poor  Lan 
ky,  who  felt  his  heart  melt. 

"  Now,  Lanky  !  "  she  added. 

But  our  friend  remained  obdurate  in  spite  of  the  hun 
dred  solicitations,  the  cries  and  exclamations  echoing  on  all 
sides. 

"  Here  comes  Will  Effin'um,"  he  said,  "  he'll  play  for 
you ! " 

And  Lanky  smiled  with  the  superiority  of  a  great  artist 
\n  presence  of  a  mere  tyro.  Master  Will  approached,  fol 
lowed  by  his  regiment,  who  had  been  hastily  disbanded. 

"  What  did  you  all  run  away  for  ?  "  asked  Will,  gloomily 

"  To  have  a  dance  !  "  cried  Donsy. 

"  A  dance  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Lanky 's  goin'  to  play  for  us." 

Lanky  sawed  his  head. 

"  You  are  always  coming  to  spoil  fan,  Lanky,"  said 
Will,  surveying  his  rival,  "  and  I  won't  stand  it." 
Lanky  fired  up. 

"  Come  now,  Will  I  "  cried  Donsy,  "  you  shan't  ruin  oui 
eport  Play  on,  Lanky  !  " 

Lanky  remembered  the  Captain's  advice,  and  refused. 
"  Oh  1 "  said  Donsy,  in  a  hurt  and  mortified  tooe. 


54  ICHABOD. 

Lanky  closed  his  ears,  and  directed  iefiant  glances  ts 
ward  Will. 

"  You  will  not  refuse  Donsy  !  "  continued  the  little  maid 
en,  and  in  a  whisper,  "  your  Donsy  !  " 

Lanky's  heart  began  to  succumb:  his  resolution  wai 
oozing  out  at  the  ends  of  his  fingers. 

"  You  can't,  after  seeing  how  I  hurt  my  hand  with  the 
elate  Sally  Jones  was  drawing  an  ugly  picture  of  you  on  1 " 
continued  the  maiden,  holding  out  a  small  hand  upon  the 
.back  of  which  a  red  mark  was  visible. 

Lanky's  resolution  began  to  flow  away;  it  no  longer 
oozed. 

"  Look  how  red  it  is !  "  continued  the  maiden,  with  a  sly 
glance  at  her  admirer,  and  placing  the  hand  in  his  own  as  she 
spoke. 

Lanky's  knees  shook  as  he  took  it  in  his  own. 

"  Really  now  1 "  he  said,  in  a  murmur. 

"  Yes,  indeed — and  it's  not  the  first  time  I've  taken  your 
part — for  you  know  how  much  I  like  you,  Lanky  !  "  said  the 
little  maiden,  throwing  a  deadly  glance  upon  her  beau,  and 
pressing  his  hand  in  her  own. 

Lanky  forgot  the  Captain  completely,  and  with  a  hesita 
ting  movement  tuned  a  string. 

"  Please  now,  dear  Lanky,"  paid  Donsy,  tenderly,  "  a 
nice  May  dance." 

Lanky's  fiddle  went  to  his  shoulder. 

"  He  shan't  play  ! "  cried  Will,  indignant  at  the  tender 
ness  bestowed  upon  his  rival,  "  stop  1  " 

Lanky  with  a  scowl  struck  his  violin  with  a  vigorous 
hand,  and  making  his  bow  fly  backward  and  forward  like 
lightning,  struck  up  an  animated  tune,  to  which  the  delighted 
girls,  and  alas !  the  Cornstalk  Regiment  also,  commenced 
dancing,  circling  hand  in  hand  around  the  pole  on  the  sum 
mit  of  which  floated  the  regimental  banner. 

Will,  we  are  compelled  to  say,  did  not  really  care  a  cop 
per  for  Donsy,  and  he  bore  no  real  ill  will  to  Lanky :  but 
when  he  found  himself  thus  ignominously  abandoned,  hia 
authority  despi&ed,  his  rival  preferred,  he  fell  into  a  passion 
and  looked  around  him  for  some  means  of  venting  his 
Wrath. 

The  means  were  not  visible : — alas !  his  brave  soldiera 


ICHABOD.  55 

were  flying  madly  around  the  pole,  hand  in  hand  with  the 
merry  school  girls,  who  with  bonnets  thrown  upon  the 
ground,  and  floating  hair,  and  merry  twinkling  feet,  to  say 
nothing  of  bright  eyes,  and  ruddy  cheeks,  and  laughing  lips, 
were  no  longer  conscious  of  any  thing  upon  earth,  but  a 
sensation  of  excessive  delight  as  the  landscape  revolved,  and 
danced  like  themselves ;  and  the  violin  continued  to  fill  the 
air  with  its  roaring,  crashing,  jubilant,  rejoiceful  laughter. 

Will  drew  his  sword  and  threw  his  cap  upon  the  ground 
— Lanky  continued  to  flash  his  bow  across  the  strings  re 
gardless.  Willie  in  a  rage  rushed  toward  him : — Lanky  only 
raised  his  chin  toward  the  sky,  and  shaking  his  head  and 
foot,  rapturously  roared  on. 

Will  was  about  to  charge  the  enemy,  to  vent  at  one  fell 
blow  all  his  wrongs  and  hatred,  when  suddenly  a  bell  rang 
in  the  school-house,  the  door  opened,  and  Lanky,  with  an 
elegant  bow,  placed  his  violin  under  his  arm  and  took  off 
his  hat. 

The  master  appeared  upon  the  threshold,  silent,  in  awful 
state,  and  that  master  was  no  less  a  personage  than  our  old 
friend,  Parson  Tag;  Parson  Tag,  who  disgusted  at  the 
slenderness  and  poverty  of  his  Piedmont  parish,  had  resign 
ed  ; — Parson  Tag,  who  had  abandoned  the  surplice  for  the 
coat  of  formal  cut ;  the  prayer  book  for  the  classic  ;  the 
shovel  hat  and  the  staff  for  the  profane  cocked  hat  and  ferrule. 
The  church  might  have  got  tired  of  him  : — he  forestalled 
any  disagreeable  circumstances  which  might  have  attended 
that  event,  by  getting  tired  of  the  church : — the  clergy 
might  have  insisted  on  his  leaving  their  ranks  : — he  avoided 
that  by  leaving  them  himself.  And  now,  like  a  great  and 
good  man,  the  ci-devant  parson  bent  his  powerful  mind  to 
teaching  the  young  ideas  of  an  old  field  school  the  art  of 
shooting. 

The  appearance  of  the  pompous  and  austere  gentleman, 
at  once  silenced  the  fiddle,  paralyzed  the  dance. 

"  What  profane  sound  was  that  I  heard  ? "  asked  the 
parson,  looking  round  with  an  air  of  importance  and  re 
proof. 

"  This  here  fiddle,  sir,"  replied  Lanky,  with  great  polite 
ness. 

"  Begone  you  son  of  Belial,"  said  the  parson,  "  and  you 


56        A   GENTLEMAN   ONCE   VERY   POPULAR   IN    VIRGINIA. 

boys  and  girls,  come  into  school.  The  peiiod  allotted  to 
exercise  and  recreation  has  expired." 

With  which  words  the  worthy  gentleman  retired  into 
the  school-house.  The  scholars  trooped  in — Will  and  Donsy 
coming  last. 

"  Now,"  said  Donsy,  "  you  shall  not  fight :  ain't  you 
ashamed  of  yourself,  Lanky,  to  refuse  so  long  to  play  and 
we  not  have  half  a  dance  !  " 

And  the  country  beauty  smiled  on  her  admirer,  until  he 
forgot  the  import  of  her  words. 

"  You  were  wrong  too,  Will,  and  you  know  it,"  said 
Donsy,  u  to  try  and  break  up  our  dance  !  It  was  too  bad  !  " 

And  she  gave  her  hand  to  Will,  with  a  smile — threw  a 
kiss  with  the  points  of  her  fingers  to  the  violinist ;  whisper 
ed,  "  Come  and  see  me  soon,  dear  Lanky ;  "  and  entered  the 
school-house. 

Lanky  remained  staring  at  the  door,  through  which  the 
dazzling  vision  had  disappeared,  in  utter  disregard  of  Cap 
tain  Ralph's  philosophy  and  advice.  The  reason  was,  that 
Lanky  was  in  love. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

INTRODUCES  A  GENTLEMAN  ONCE  VERT  POPULAR  IN  VIRGINIA. 

LANKY  stood  for  some  moments  gazing,  as  we  have  said,  at 
the  door  through  which  his  lady  had  vanished,  and  during 
this  time  his  mini  seemed  to  be  engaged  on  some  problem 
which  he  could  not  solve.  Not  until  a  humming  noise  from 
the  school-house,  and  some  merry  faces  at  the  window  at 
tracted  his  attention,  did  he  become  conscious  of  the  singu 
larity  of  his  posture :  and  seeing  that  he  was  undergoing 
that  disagreeable  ceremony,  being  laughed  at,  he  slowly  de 
parted.  As  he  turned  away,  his  thoughts  took  words  untc 
themselves,  and  shaking  his  head,  ^e  murmured  the  profound 
sentiment : 

"  These  women  kind  are  mighty  hard  to  understand  ! " 
The  expression  of  his  opinion  on  this  subject  seemed  to 
quiet  Lanky  somewhat,  and  he  took  up  a  line  of  march  to* 


A   GENTLEMAN    ONCE    VERY    POPULAR   IN    VIRGINIA.        57 

ward  home,  without  perceiving  that  he  was  followed  by  a 
youthful  individual,  who  had  been  a  delighted  auditor  of  his 
fiddle  playing. 

The  word  '  individual,'  is  perhaps  the  best  to  apply  to 
the  person  in  question,  as  it  leaves  no  distinct  impression  : — 
any  single  word  attempting  to  describe  him,  would  miserably 
fail.  It  was  a  something  in  the  shape  of  a  human  being 
about  three  feet  high,  with  a  large  woolly  head,  a  laughing 
phiz,  resembling  in  color  and  texture  charcoal,  a  glittering 
set  of  teeth,  and  a  roll  in  its  walk  which  seemed  to  indicate 
the  peculiarity  known  as  bandy  legs.  This  figure  wore  a 
man's  coat,  all  tattered  and  torn,  and  in  consequence  of  the 
wearer's  smallness,  the  waist  of  the  old  coat  was  at  his  knees, 
and  the  skirts  dragged  the  ground.  We  refrain  from  de 
scribing  the  rest  of  his  attire,  from  a  reasonable  regard  for 
our  reputation  as  a  veracious  chronicler.  We  can  only  say 
that  the  garment  called  a  tunic  by  the  ancient  Romans  had 
here  reached  its  last  degree  of  dilapidation  :  and  that  the 
Gallic  vesture  was  of  that  description  that  it  cannot  possibly 
be  described. 

We  have  expended  thus  much  description  upon  the  figure 
now  following  Lanky,  because — more  fortunate  than  brave 
men  who  lived  before  Agamemnon — he  has  secured  a  poet 
and  an  immortality. 

The  grotesque  little  goblin,  who  as  we  have  said  had 
witnessed  the  exhibition  of  Lanky's  skill  with  extreme  de 
light,  now  followed  in  his  footsteps ;  sawing  his  left  arm  with 
his  right,  in  imitation  of  the  motion  of  the  bow  arm ;  rolling 
his  head,  chin  erect,  from  side  to  side ;  and  executing  a  species 
of  dance  something  between  the  waddle  of  a  goose  and  the 
antics  of  a  monkey. 

Lanky  was  not  aware  of  the  honor  paid  to  his  perform 
ance,  and  went  on  thinking  of  Donsy  and  his  prospects. 

*  The  fact  is,"  said  Lanky  to  himself,  ':  I  never  ken  say 
any  thing  when  Donsy's  lookin'  at  me.  I  lose  my  wits 
directly  she  begins  to  smile  and  talk  sweet  to  me,  and  look 
at  me  so  !  /couldn't  do  what  the  Captain  said  I  ought  to 
— hold  my  head  up  and  talk  bold  and  free  !  I  can't  say 
nothing — I  feel  so  curious.  What  a  unfortunate  young  man 
I  am ! " 

17 


58         A    GENTLEMAN    ONCE    VERY    POPULAR    IN   VIRGINIA. 

And  Lanky  sighed ;  and  went  on  still  thinking  of  Donsy 
and  wholly  unconscious  of  his  '  following.' 

"  Now  there's  no  use  talking,"  he  continued  after  a  pause, 
'  I  never  ken  tell  her  how  much  I  love  her — I  needn't  try. 
I  don't  know  any  way  to  do,  but  to  write  a  letter  and  tell 
her  all  about  it,  though  she  knows  it  well  enough  now.  But 
what  good  would  that  do  ?  I  never  would  have  the  courage 
to  put  it  in  the  office  in  town,  and  run  the  chance  of  that 
old  fellow  Smith  laughin'  at  me.  Oh  me  1  that  would  be 
dreadful !  I  could  write  it  well  enough,  for  Mr.  Charles 
showed  me  how  to  make  my  letters  : — but  how  afterwards  ? 
/couldn't  have  courage  to  hand  it  to  her.  '  What's  that  ?  ' 
she  would  say  !  And  then  I'd  feel  like  I  wanted  to  creep 
through  a  hole.  Who  could  I  get  to  send  it  by  ?  " 

Lanky  heard  a  subdued  whistle,  and  turning  his  head 
saw  the  boy  following  him,  and  sawing  away  with  an  accu 
racy  of  imitation  which  was  worthy  of  the  most  elevated 
praise. 

"  What  are  you  doin',  Crow  ?  "  said  Lanky,  "  and  how 
did  you  get  here  ?  " 

"  I  git  here  jest  so.  Mas'  Lanky,"  replied  Crow,  making 
ready  to  jump  out  of  the  way  of  a  blow,  but  sawing  away  as 
enthusiastically  as  ever,  li  I  been  listen  to  you  playin'." 

"  Idle  as  usual,  you  little  monkey,"  said  Lanky,  "  where 
are  you  goin'  ?  " 

"  I  ain't  gwyne  nowheres." 

"  Why  ain't  you  workin'  ?  " 

"  Is'e  free ;  /  is,"  said  Crow,  executing  a  pas  seul. 

"  An  idea  struck  Lanky  all  at  once,  that  Mr.  Crow  might 
act  as  his  messenger  and  postman,  that  young  gentleman 
being  a  privileged  character  whose  presence  would  excite  no 
more  remark  than  that  of  a  shadow. 

Just  as  this  idea  occurred  to  him,  they  reached  the  high 
way,  on  the  opposite  side  of  which  was  visible  the  path  lead 
ing  toward  the  abode  of  Captain  Ralph.  Lanky  raised  hia 
hand  to  his  hat  to  salute  a  gentleman  who  was  riding  by  : 
and  this  ceremony  was  closely  imitated  by  Mr.  Crow,  who 
added  the  further  honor  of  a  complete  '  turn  about,'  in  the 
process  of  executing  which,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  his  long 
skirts  got  in  his  way,  and  he  made  a  considerable  hole  in  the 
gaudy  road  with  his  head. 


ASPIRATIONS   OF   MR.   JACK   HAMILTON.  59 

It  may  be  readily  understood,  that  Crow  agreed  to  place 
flimself  completely  at  the  commands  of  Lanky  for  a  very 
slight  gratuity  : — we  need  not  follow  them.  Let  us  rather 
accompany  the  cavalier  who  had  passed ;  and  as  this  will 
lead  us  into  company  a  step  higher,  commence  another  chap 
ter. 


CHAPTER    X. 

HOW  ME.  JACK  HAMILTON,  FOXHUNTER,  AND  BACHELOR,  ASPIEED 
TO  THE  HONORS  OF  A  WIG,  A  SUIT  OF  BLACK,  AND  A  GOLD- 
HEADED  CANE. 

THE  gentleman  was  our  old  acquaintance,  honest  Jack  Ham 
ilton  : — for  by  this  honorable  prefix  was  the  worthy  fellow 
now  almost  universally  known. 

Mr.  Hamilton  had  changed  very  little — not  at  all  we 
might  venture  to  say.  He  had  reached  that  middle  ground 
of  human  life,  extending  from  thirty-five  to  forty,  when  the 
mental  and  physical  organization  of  man  seems  to  stand  still, 
neither  increasing  nor  decreasing  in  strength,  bloom,  or  grace : 
— when  nature  seems  to  pause  upon  the  summit  of  those 
piled  up  years,  before  descending  slowly  into  the  vale  of  age. 
When  a  man  has  arrived  at  this  point  in  his  pilgrimage  to 
ward  the  other  world,  his  eye  embraces  a  more  ample  hori 
zon,  than  at  any  former  or  later  period.  On  one  side  lies 
the  brilliant  land  of  youth  and  childhood,  with  its  murmur 
ing  streams  filling  the  fields  with  music,  its  myriads  of  deli 
cious  flowers,  burdening  the  faint  pure  air  with  perfume  ; — 
and  by  these  streams  so  bright  and  sparkling,  among  these 
flowers  whose  odor  haunts  the  memory,  glide  forms  which 
filled  with  joy,  and  freshness,  and  a  tender  bloom,  the  whole 
happy  period  of  youth.  What  joy,  what  freshness,  in  the 
bright  eye  and  lip  of  the  boy's  sweetheart ! — what  a  tender 
bloom  upon  the  cheek,  which  blushed  with  delight  when 
the  loved  one  approached !  And  farther  still  into  that  past, 
the  man's  eye  plunges  and  finds  again  the  all-embracing 
mother's  love,  the  father's  tenderness — those  things  which 
words  fail  to  utter,  leaving  the  heart  to  speak ! 

And  on  the  other  side  the  now  mature  man  sees  stretch- 


60  ASPIRATIONS    OF    MR.    JACK   HAMILTON. 

ing  the  cool  and  shady  path  of  age,  evironed  with  a  thou 
sand  quiet  joys,  which,  if  they  have  not  all  the  light  illusion 
and  romance  of  youth,  to  gild  them,  still  are  quite  as  genuine 
as  the  rapturous  pleasures  of  that  brilliant  golden  youth— 
the  sunset  almost  shames  the  dawn !  And  if  at  the  end  of 
that  quiet  path,  there  stands  a  white  stone — and  if  to  reach 
that  bourne  the  foot  must  sometimes  tread  on  thorns,  still 
upon  the  marble  there  is  carved  a  symbol,  and  a  suffering 
head,  which  makes  the  weary  heart  forget  those  thorns,  bo- 
cause  they  are  sanctified  for  ever,  by  encircling  the  brows 
carved  there. 

Embracing  at  a  glance  the  whole  horizon,  extending  thus 
from  childhood  to  old  age,  the  man  of  true  heart,  standing 
on  the  summit  of  manhood,  does  not  shrink.  For  if  the 
bright  fields  he  looks  back  upon  were  filled  with  strange  de 
lights,  the  path  he  has  yet  to  tread  is  not  sombre,  does  not 
want  for  consolations — if  the  light  of  dawn  was  fresh  and 
golden,  a  light  streams  from  the  Cross,  cut  in  stone,  and  ri 
sing  o'er  the  champaign,  which  is  far  more  pure.  For  it 
murmurs  to  the  spirit  "  Peace  !  " 

And  now,  if  the  reader  is  disposed  to  find  fault  with  this 
philosophic  and  meditative  digression,  we  can  only  say  that 
we  regret  it,  requesting  him  to  pass  over  any  future  digres 
sions  of  the  same  description.  Let  us  then  return  to  Mr. 
Jack  Hamilton,  whose  middle-aged  appearance,  and  two  or 
three  gray  hairs,  led  us  away. 

Mr.  Hamilton  rode  on  composedly,  and  soon  reached  Ef- 
fingham  Hall,  which  was  not  very  far,  as  we  know,  from 
"  The  Trap,"  where  the  forlorn  and  unhappy  bachelor  pined 
in  single  blessedness,  and  uproarious  mirth.  Mr.  Efiingham 
was  standing  before  the  fire-place  in  the  dining-room,  amu 
sing  himself  by  gazing  through  the  window,  at  the  cloud 
shadows. 

Hamilton  grasped  him  cordially  by  the  hand,  and  this 
exhibition  of  friendly  regard  was  returned  with  as  great 
heartiness. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  your  familiar  face,  Hamilton,"  said 
Mr.  Effingham,  "  and  I  do  not  think  you  have  changed  in 
the  least.'* 

"  Not  a  bit,  I  believe/'  returned  the  fox-hunter* 
ay  George  1  yo  i  have." 


ASPIRATIONS    OF    MR.    JACK    HAMILTON.  S« 

Mr.  Effinghain  looked  out  of  the  window. 
"  Are  all  the  boys  well  ?  "  he  asked  at  length. 
"  Yes." 

"  And  fox-hunt  as  much  as  ever  ?  " 
"  More  ! " 

"  What  an  easy,  careless  time  you  must  have,  with  that 
passion  for  the  chase,  Hamilton." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.     It  has  its  drawbacks,"  replied  his 
friend.  "'  but  suits  a  disreputable  bachelor  like  myself." 

"  It  is  a  great  thing  for  the  blood ;  I  used  to  hunt — ind 
I  can  understand  what  you  mean,  by  saying  that  it  has  its 
drawbacks  ;  a  broken  arm,  collar  bone,  or  leg,  for  instance." 
"  I  did  not  mean  that,  Champ,  my  boy.     A  good  rider 
can  always  avoid  that — but  the  ladies  don't  like  it." 

"  The  ladies  ?"  asked  Mr.  Effingham,  with  his  habitual 
faint  smile  lighting  up  his  calm,  weary  face,  at  the  mortified 
tones  of  his  friend. 

5Tes,  yes,"  said  Hamilton. 
Explain  yourself  I " 

Why,  Miss  Alethea  here,  for  instance." 
Alethea?" 
Yes." 

Does  she  lecture  you  ?  " 

By  George  !  I  should  say  she  did.  She  never  allows 
me  any  rest.  I  never  introduce  the  subject  of  fox-hunting, 
but  I  am  immediately  informed  that  a  gentleman  of  my 
standing  in  the  community  should  turn  his  attention  to 
other  and  more  important  matters ;  for  instance,  the  im 
provement  of  the  parsonage  of  the  new  and  popular  Mr. 
Christian,  parson  of  the  parish,  or  getting  together  a  fund 
for  supplying  the  unfortunate  little  Indians  over  there  on 
the  river  with  braccce,  as  the  Latin  term  is — vulgo  trowsers. 
Yes,  sir !  that  is  what  makes  me  complain  of  the  disadvan 
tages  of  my  unfortunate  bachelor  and  fox-hunter  condition. 
But  enough ;  where  are  they  all  to-day  1  " 

"  Alethea  and  my  father  have  gone  over  to  Mr.  Lee's." 

"  Then  you  are  all  alone." 

"  Yes — little  Kate  is  here  somewhere,  I  think." 

"  A  nice  little  creature, — and  did  you  have  a  rjleasan* 

re?" 
"  Tolerably." 


62  ASPIRATIONS  OF   MR.   JACK   HAMILTON 

"  From  London  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

There  was  a  pause  for  some  moments,  at  the  end  of 
which  time  Mr.  Hamilton  went  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  and 
cried  out : 

"  By  George,  Champ ! — or  if  that  oath  is  getting  disre 
putable,  owing  to  his  gracious  Majesty's  saying  and  doing — 
by  Jove !  here  am  I  dying  to  know  all  about  your  travels  • 
and  according  to  the  good  old  English  custom,  followed  by 
friends  immemorially,  we  are  dealing  in  the  most  ridiculous 
commonplaces.  Come,  speak  !  " 

And  rising,  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton  assumed,  what  we  be 
lieve  is  known  as  the  "  Virginia  position,"  before  the  fire — 
that  is  to  say,  a  contented  and  indolent  attitude,  with  the 
shoulders  bent  forward,  the  coat  skirts  under  the  arms,  the 
pight  leg  extended  at  an  angle  of  ten  or  twenty  degrees  in 
"»nt. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  tell  about  my  travels,"  said  Mr.  Ef- 
ingham,  wearily,  and  gazing  as  before  at  the  cloud  shadows 
floating  over  the  fields.  "  I  went,  knocked  about,  and  came 
back — that  is  all.  What  news  of  any  consequence  is  there 
in  the  neighborhood  ?  " 

"  None." 

"  There  is  to  be  a  race  soon,  down  near  Jamestown  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  think  I  shall  go,  though  I  take  little  interest  in  these 
matters.  Much  politics  talked  about  in  the  neighborhood  ?" 

"  Politics  ?  there  is  nothing  but  politics  talked.  That 
infernal  Stamp  Act  is  looked  for  every  day,  and  the  colony 
is  getting  red  hot. 

"  They  are  right,"  said  Efnngham,  with  a  slight  color  in 
his  wan  cheek,  "  it  is  an  infamous  measure — and  I  saw  the 
whole  affair  in  London  ;  it  will  be  passed." 

"  Let  'em  take  care  !  "  said  Hamilton. 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  friend,  growing  calm  again ;  "  you 
rightly  judge  that  it  is  an  extreme  test.  But  do  not  let  us 
talk  politics,  I  have  no  spirits  for  it." 

Hamilton  looked  at  his  friend  curiously. 

"  Were  your  travels  very  dull  ?  "  he  asked.  "  It  seems 
to  me  that  you  have  returned  not  much  improved  in  vi- 
yacity,  Champ." 


ASPIRATIONS    OF    MR.    JACK    HAMILTON.  63 

Mr.  Effingham  raised  his  eyes,  making  no  reply.  Hamii 
ton  returned  his  gaze,  in  perfect  silence  also,  and  for  some 
moments  the  friends  looked  thus  at  each  other.  Suddenlj 
Mr.  Effingham  held  out  his  hand,  and  said  : 

"  Well,  Hamilton,  if  we  must  touch  upon  that  subject — 
if  I  speak  of  it — I  know  of  no  man  better  than  yourself 
Come  1  you  think  I  am  dull — spiritless — with  less  vivacity 
than  ever  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Hamilton,  cordially  pressing  the  hand 
of  his  friend,  "  your  cheeks  are  thinner  and  paler,  your  fore 
head  has  the  mark  of  thought  upon  it,  your  mouth  does  not 
smile  in  a  wholesome  way.  I  repeat  that  you  are  less  viva 
cious." 

"  I  was  never  very  bright,"  said  Mr.  Effingham  ;  "  but 
can  you  not  understand  that  there  is  in  my  case,  to  be  esti 
mated  and  allowed  for,  a  great  force,  an  enormous  motor  ? " 

"  A  great  force  ?  " 

"  That  of  reaction  !  "  said  Mr.  Effingham,  calmly. 

Hamilton  had  never  been  quick  of  apprehension,  and  it 
must  be  confessed,  did  not  understand  the  profound  meaning 
of  these  words. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said,  however. 

Mr.  Effingham  paused  for  some  moments,  looking  calmlj 
through  the  window. 

"  Those  clouds  are  very  fine,"  he  said,  "  and  the  shad 
ows  are  beautiful." 

Then  he  added : 

"  But  I  was  going  to  speak  of  mysel*  You  wish  to 
know  something  of  my  travels,  of  my  feelings,  and  all  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  Hamilton,"  continued  Mr.  Effingham,  as  calmlj 
as  before,  "  you  are  a  good  friend,  and  I  need  not  play  the 
reserved  with  you,  though  I  assure  you  I  feel  no  disposition 
to  dissect  my  own  heart.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  task,  but  it 
can  do  no  harm." 

And  after  a  pause  of  several  minutes  Mr.  Effingham  con 
tinued  : 

"  You  will  no  doubt  recollect  the  affair  which  created  so 
much  agreeable  comment  in  this  neighborhood,  a  year  or  two 
ago  : — -an  affair  which,  commencing  like  a  comedy,  came  near 
ending  a  tragedy  for  all  the  actors,  among  whom  I  held,  J 


64  ASPIRATIONS    OF    MR.    JACK   HAMILTON. 

Relieve,  a  distinguished  rank.  It  is  not  necessary  for  nv  to 
go  over  that  matter  for  your  entertainment,  for  I  think 
you  know  very  nearly  as  much  about  it  as  I  do  myself:  how 
I  loved  with  a  wild  and  passionate  infatuation  a  splendid  and 
fiery  woman,  who,  from  the  first  moment  we  encountered  each 
other,  became  my  fate.  You  knew  all  that,  and  no  doubt 
understood  the  sequel :  the  tragedy  (to  return  to  my  theatri 
cal  metaphor)  requires  no  prologue  for  you." 

"  But  in  relation  to  that  young  girl  who  exerted  so  power 
ful  an  influence  upon  my  life,"  continued  Mr.  Effingham,  "  let 
me  say  two  or  three  words.  On  our  first  meeting,  in  the  tall 
forest  yonder,  she  said,  in  reply  to  my  questions,  that  she 
'  was  not  a  lady,'  and  in  this  characteristic  speech  lies  the 
whole  explanation  of  what  followed.  Had  I  loved  her  as  a 
lady — or  rather,  to  correct  myself,  had  I  approached  her  as 
gentlemen  are  in  the  habit  of  approaching  ladies,  much  which 
afterwards  occurred  would  never  have  taken  place.  I  chanced 
to  do  what  under  any  circumstances  I  think  I  should  not 
have  done.  I  went  to  the  theatre,  and  there  I  saw  that  her 
criticism  of  herself  was,  as  far  as  the  mere  letter  went,  strictly 
true.  She  was  not  a  lady  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the 
word  ;  and,  blinded  by  my  pride,  iny  love — infatuation  if  you 
will — I  continued  to  regard  her  as  an  actress,  from  that  mo 
ment  to  the  last  scenes  of  the  affair.  Do  not,  however,  ima 
gine  that  my  love  was  any  thing  but  the  purest,  after  the  ac 
quaintance  that  I  made  with  the  rare  and  wonderful  texture 
of  this  woman's  nature.  No  !  I  loved  her  madly,  but  with 
profound  purity — for  I  am  not  naturally  an  impure  man,  and 
never  adopted  the  revolting  habitudes  of  the  soi-distant  noble 
society  of  England.  I  have  never  regarded  women  in  the 
humbler  ranks  as  the  natural  purveyors  for  the  amusement 
of  gentlemen.  I  loved  this  girl  madly,  but  not,  for  that 
reason,  coarsely :  and  I  think,  that  in  the  course  of  the 
intensely  dramatic  scenes  we  had  together,  I  must  have 
offered  her  my  hand  more  than  a  score  of  times.  You  see 
how  it  was ;  I  scoffed  at  and  taunted  her,  railed  at  her  cold 
ness,  and  sneered  at  her  '  prudish  airs  '  as  I  called  them : 
but  I  also  honored  and  respected  her  at  the  bottom  of  my 
heart,  for  her  purity  and  nobility  of  nature.  That  brings 
me  back  to  the  few  words  I  wished  to  say  of  this  young 
girl" 


ASPIRATIONS    OF    MR.    JACK    IUMIL1ON.  (.tt 

And,  after  a  pause,  Mr.  Effingham  continued,  with  per 
feet  calmuess, — 

"  She  was  one  of  those  rare  and  extraordinary  natures, 
who  unite  the  most  opposing  and  incompatible  traits  of  cha 
racter  in  one  harmonious  whole.  You  read  this  characteristic 
in  her  very  eyes,  which  melted  or  fired,  were  brilliant  or  dim, 
flashed  gloriously  with  imperious  disdain,  or  swam  in  the 
dews  of  tenderness  and  childlike  innocent  emotions.  Upon 
the  stage  she  was  the  character  she  personated — nothing 
more  nor  less,  for  she  completely  lost  her  individuality,  and 
forgot  the  world  of  reality,  entering  free  and  untrammelled 
into  the  brighter  world  of  art — the  splendid  domain  of  ima 
gination.  I  have  seen  her,  Hamilton,  pass  from  emotion  to 
emotion  with  such  a  marvellous  ease  and  strength  that  I 
almost  feared  to  approach  her  afterwards  ;  I  felt,  as  you  may 
imagine  a  man  would  feel,  were  some  queen  or  empress  to 
converse  familiarly  with  him  in  disguise ;  then,  throwing  off 
the  cloak  which  covered  her  imperial  robes,  reveal  herself 
in  all  the  haughty  and  dazzling  beauty  of  rank  and  power. 
This  young  girl  at  home  was  a  mere  child,  affectionate  to  her 
coarse  old  father,  unaffected,  simple ;  you  would  have  thought 
her  rather  dull  at  times.  In  her  character  she  was  the  queen 
of  art,  and  what  art  was  made  to  interpret,  beauty  and  passion. 

u  You  follow  me,  do  you  not  ?  I  mean  that  this  girl  was 
in  intellect  above  all  the  women  I  have  ever  known ;  in  reso 
lution  more  than  a  match  for  thousands  of  men  :  and  with  all 
this  she  had  the  heart  of  a  child, — the  innocence  and  purity 
of  a  young  girl  who  has  never  left  her  mother's  side.  You 
may  now  understand  how  passionate  my  infatuation  must 
have  been,  for  I  have  always  experienced  a  powerful  attrac 
tion  towards  truth  and  nobility,  and,  of  course,  a  cordial 
respect  for  strong  character.  I  loved  her,  and  finding  my 
advances  met  with  indifference  and  cold  aversion,  which 
afterwards  changed  to  passionate  aversion  and  no  little  dread 
at  times,  you  may  imagine  that  the  fire  was  blown  into  a 
whirlwind  of  flame. 

"  I  was  carried  away  with  passion — I  found  myself  openly 
defied — I  executed  that  exceedingly  unworthy  scheme  of 
abduction." 

Mr.  Eflingham  looked  out  of  the  window  at  the  oloud 
shadows  agaiu,  and  paused  for  some  time. 


fi6  ASPIRATIONS   OF    MR.   JACK   HAMILTON. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  at  length,  "  after  that  denouement 
I  went  away,  you  know,  and  you  now  ask  me  to  give  you 
some  account  of  ray  travels.  I  cannot  recall  any  thing  which 
makes  them  very  interesting.  It  was  the  old  tale,  which  we 
sometimes  read  in  romances  ;  where  the  despairing  lover  who 
has  committed  some  wild  act  which  drives  him  from  his  native 
country,  seeks  distraction  in  travel,  and  endeavors,  by  chang 
ing  hie  residence  incessantly,  to  escape  the  thoughts  which 
follow  him  as  the  shadow  follows  the  body  moving  on.  I  ran 
all  over  Europe — went  to  Constantinople,  Egypt,  Syria  ; 
smoked  abominable  tobacco  in  Smyrna,  and  eat  disgusting 
macaroni  in  Naples.  Home  was  rather  interesting,  and  I 
think  the  happiest  portion  of  my  time  was  spent  among  the 
Bernese  Alps,  in  the  cottage  of  a  herdsman,  with  an  artist 
from  Florence,  who  was  an  excellent  companion,  and  aroused 
me  whenever  I  fell  into  one  of  my  fits  of  rage  and  despon 
dency. 

"  I  had  many  such  fits,  and  suffered  no  little  remorse  ; 
for  I  was  uncertain  whether  my  rival  was  dead  or  not.  I 
had  no  desire  to  kill  him,  strange  to  say,  and  was  extremely 
pleased  to  hear  of  his  recovery  by  a  letter  received  while  I 
was  in  Florence.  You  may  understand  from  this,  that  by 
force  of  travel  and  incessant  novelty,  my  infatuation  for  that 
young  girl  was  slowly  being  worn  down  and  smoothed  away, 
as  the  tire  of  a  wheel  is  worn  by  the  leagues  it  passes  over, 
and  the  obstacles  in  the  track.  I  understood  for  the  first 
time  then,  that  my  madness  had  spent  itself  perforce  of  its 
own  violence,  as  a  storm  does,  and  was  gone.  I  did  not 
grind  my  teeth  and  curse  that  rival,  and,  if  the  intelligence 
of  his  recovery  and  marriage  was  not  agreeable,  that  feeling 
soon  wore  away.  Buf,  my  cheerfulness  (vivacity,  to  use  your 
own  word)  did  not  return  with  the  disappearance  of  the 
afflicting  emotions  which  had  tortured  me  so  long.  No,  I 
now  began  to  comprehend  the  truth  of  the  dogma,  that  the 
mental  system  closely  resembles,  in  ith  modes  of  operation, 
the  physical.  You  know  that  when  the  human — I  mean  the 
physical — system  is  put  under  the  effect  of  an  excessive  sti 
mulant,  whether  that  stimulant  be  the  grape,  or  opium,  or 
some  poison,  taken  in  a  quantity  not  sufficient  to  produce 
death — there  is,  for  a  time,  an  unnatural  exaltation,  a  tre 
mendous  accession  pf  velocity  in  all  the  wheels  of  life 


ASPIRATIONS    OF    MR.    JACK    HAMILTON.  67 

The  blood  rushes  like  a  flood  of  fire  through  the  veins — the 
senses  become  a  thousand  times  more  acute.  I  will  give  you 
an  instance,  and  then  finish  my  idea. 

"  At  Smyrna  I  went  one  day  into  one  of  those  shops 
where  opium  is  provided  for  the  true  believers,  and  mats  for 
them  to  smoke  upon,  and  lie  extended  on  when  the  divine 
exaltation  overcomes  them.  I  was  always  curious  to  inves- 
tigate  the  causas  rerum,  and  I  wished  to  experience  the  ef 
fects  of  the  drug  which  was  said  to  possess  such  extraordi 
nary  properties.  Well,  the  old  animal  handed  me  a  sort  of 
chibouque,  and  in  a  few  moments  I  was  smoking  like  the 
faithful  around  me,  some  of  whom  were  already  beginning 
to  totter.  As  I  smoked  the  opium,  the  objects  in  the  apart 
ment  began  to  fade,  a  sort  of  mist  waved  before  my  eyes  — 
then  all  disappeared,  and  I  entered,  it  seemed  to  me,  another 
world — a  world  so  brilliant  and  beautiful,  that  any  descrip 
tion  would  only  mar  it.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  life  seemed 
to  have  passed  away  with  all  its  suffering,  and  boundless  hap 
piness  in  another  sphere  of  being  opened  on  me.  My  blood 
seemed  to  roll  on  like  a  golden  river;  I  could  hear  the 
murmur  of  the  waves ;  my  feet  trod  upon  clouds,  not  earth 
— I  felt  as  you  may  imagine  felt  the  Persian  Peri,  in  the 
fable  when  she  entered  Paradise. 

"  Well,  I  woke  up  with  a  suicidal  sensation : — a  desire 
to  leave  the  world  where  a  man  had  to  support  the  bundle 
of  nerves  which  were  driving  me  to  agony,  with  their  jarring 
and  aching.  A  physical  exaltation,  you  observe,  had  been 
succeeded  by  a  physical  reaction  just  in  proportion — as  the 
balance  descends  upon  one  hand,  because  the  other  side  rises 
above  the  natural  level,  the  normal  condition.  Perhaps  I 
never  suffered  greater  physical  torture,  and  so  you  have  the 
illustration,  a  very  lame  one,  of  my  trite  dogma. 

"  I  had  reached  the  period  of  my  travels  where  the  post 
brought  me  that  letter  containing  the  intelligence  of  my 
rival's  recovery :  and  I  was  about  to  say  that  in  spite  of 
this  weight  r/iised  from  my  breast,  I  did  not  become  cheer 
ful  again — and  that,  because  the  stormy  emotions  I  had  ex 
perienced  began  to  react  as  the  physical  organism  feels  the 
reaction  of  hashish  or  other  stimulant.  I  was  completely 
flat,  if  I  may  use  the  word,  and  I  am  so  now,  in  spite  of 
my  sight  seeing ;  spite  of  all  the  bright  eyes  in  Italy 


68  ASPIRATIONS    OF   MR.    JACK   HAMi    TON. 

France,  England,  which  have  shone  on  me — and  I  assure 
you  that  I  was  regarded  as  a  very  grand  seigneur  on  the 
continent,  owing  to  the  reasonable  plumpness  of  my  purse, 
especially  by  the  Italian  damsels.  They  wearied  me — as 
art,  literature,  plays,  society  of  all  descriptions  wearied  me. 
I  felt  through  all  this  that  the  proverb  of  the  Preacher 
shone  like  a  fire — that  all  was  vanity — the  very  vanity  of 
vanities.  I  grew  quite  calm,  and  am  so  now,  as  I  said. 

"  But  stay  :  there  was  an  incident  in  London  which  may 
possibly  add  another  touch  to  this  picture  of  myself  under 
going  the  distracting  effects  of  a  European  tour :— it  goes 
to  show  that  my  feelings  were  not  quite  deadened  by  the 
countries,  scenes,  personages,  I  had  seen — the  time  which 
had  elapsed. 

"  In  London,  one  day,  I  chanced  to  raise  my  eyes  to  the 
door  of  a  theatre,  and  I  saw  the  names  of  the  members  of 
the  '  Virginia  Company  of  Comedians  ' — the  worthy  gentle 
men  were  to  play  that  evening.  You  see  they  had  by  that 
time  returned  from  Virginia  to  England,  and  were  figuring 
in  the  humbler  characters  they  were  suited  to.  I  know  not 
what  feeling  seized  me,  and  I  determined  to  go  and  see 
them  play  that  evening.  I  went,  and  found  these  men  just 
the  same  easy,  jovial,  and  coarse  characters  which  I  had 
known  them  to  be  formerly : — for  you  know  I  had  the  honor 
to  be  an  accredited  member  of  the  '  Virginia  Company  of 
Comedians,'  and  was  favored  with  the  society  of  these  wor 
thies.  There  they  were  now,  just  the  same  : — H  alia  in  strut 
ted  in  his  pompous  good-humored  way ;  Shylock,  as  one  of 
these  fellows  was  called,  still  exhibited  an  admirable  bur 
lesque  of  tragedy  : — the  Virginia  Company  had  become  a 
London  Company,  that  was  all. 

"  The  effect  produced  upon  me  by  the  sight  of  these 
men  was  singular.  I  seemed  «D  go  back  in  actual  reality 
to  that  former  time  so  filled  with  fiery  passion,  with  love, 
disdain,  hatred,  despair.  The  very  atmosphere  seemed  to 
envelope  me  again — that  atmosphere  again  filled  my  veins 
with  fierce  heat,  and  so  powerful  were  these  emotions,  that, 
carried  away  by  my  old  fury,  I  drew  my  short  sword,  and 
would  have  struck  a  gentleman  who  stood  by  me,  had  it  not 
been  wrested  from  my  hand.  He  was  enraged — I  could  not 
explain,  or  rather  he  wo^ld  not  hear  my  vague  excuse — we 


ASPIRATIONS    DF   MR     JACK   HAMILTON.  69 

fought  on  the  next  morning.  But  nothing  caine  )f  it ; — he 
was  a  lame  hand,  and  I  disarmed  him,  and  allowed  him  to 
depart.  I  do  not  think  I  recovered  from  the  effect  of  that 
performance  for  a  whole  month  : — but  it  was  the  last  mut 
tering  of  the  storm — the  tempest  after  that  died  away  com 
pletely,  and  I  now  feel  convinced  that  nothing  can  again 
arouse  in  me  those  tempestuous  memories.  Soon  after  the 
incident  I  have  mentioned,  I  left  London,  tired,  completely 
wearied  of  every  thing  European,  and  experiencing  a  singu 
lar  sentiment  of  home-sickness,  which  I  had  read  of  in  Vir 
gil,  and  many  poets  after  him ;  but  had  never  believed  in 
before.  I  actually  began  to  feel  some  returu  of  warmth  in 
my  frozen  breast,  thinking  of  Virginia  here — the  Hall — my 
father — the  children,  and  the  servants.  I  cannot  say  that 
any  of  my  yearning — the  rhetorical  word,  I  believe — was 
directed  toward  the  ladies  of  the  neighborhood  :  no,  I  have 
done  with  women,  Hamilton,  and  shall  in  future  avoid  them, 
as  the  helmsman  avoids  the  sunken  rock,  the  whirlpool,  or 
the  muttering  storm  :  well,  this  is  by  the  way.  I  was  about 
to  tell  you  how  I  found  that  my  heart  was  no  longer  subject 
to  these  stormy  memories  ;  and  I  proved  that  satisfactorily 
to  myself  on  my  arrival — after  a  tolerably  pleasant  passage 
of  two  months — in  Virginia. 

"  Do  you  remember — but  you  must — my  sojourn  in  the 
old  days  at  the  Raleigh  tavern  ?  Yes  ?  Well,  I  also  re 
member  it  very  distinctly  1  Let  me  tell  you  how  I  tried 
myself,  and  found  that  my  heart  was  thenceforth  as  cold  as 
ice,  and  equal  to  any  test. 

"  I  had  occupied,  in  those  former  days  I  have  alluded 
to,  an  apartment  in  the  tavern  known  as  number  six ;  and 
she — you  understand — had  two  rooms  just  opposite.  Hav 
ing  arrived  in  the  town  from  York,  at  which  port  I  disem 
barked,  late  in  the  evening,  I  resolved  to  spend  the  night 
there,  and  I  ordered  the  apartments  formerly  occupied  by 
the  young  girl  to  be  prepared  for  me,  with  the  direct  inten 
tion  to  try  myself  That  this  trial  should  be  final  and  defi 
nite,  I  arranged  the  apartments  just  as  they  had  been  in  tbne 
past : — the  first,  I  mean,  for  of  the  second,  her  bedroom,  I 
knew  nothing,  having  never  entered  it.  A  bureau  had  beeu 
removed  to  a  different  position  :  I  changed  it  to  its  former 
place  :  the  slight  couch  was  out  of  place  :  I  restored  it.  An 


70  ASPIRATIONS   OF    MR.    JACK   HAMILTON. 

eight-day  clock  ticked  on  the  high  narrow  mantlepiece — I  re 
moved  it,  and  substituted  the  oblong  mirror  which  had  once 
graced  it — leaning  forward  from  the  wall.  I  ordered  a  sin 
gle  wax-light  then  to  be  placed  upon  the  table  in  the  corner, 
and  went  and  procured  a  straw  hat,  such  as  she  wore,  with 
red  ribbon,  for  I  remembered  all  perfectly;  and  this  I 
threw  down  upon  the  couch. 

"  I  wandered  about  for  an  hour  near  the  theatre,  the 
Governor's  palace — along  Gloucester  street — reviving  her 
image  in  my  mind  :  then  as  night  drew  on,  I  went  to  the 
apartment— paused  at  the  door  and  knocked,  opened  the 
door  and  entered.  The  dim  wax-light  threw  long  shadows 
through  the  room,  and  the  illusion  was  complete.  I  could 
almost  fancy  that  she  had  just  passed  into  the  adjoining 
chamber,  having  thrown  down  her  hat  upon  the  sofa. 

"  Well,  I  sat  down,  smiling,  and  with  my  hand  upon  my 
brow,  summoned  all  that  past,  so  full  of  brilliant  and  pas 
sionate  figures,  and  more  fiery  and  passionate  emotions,  back 
to  me.  I  commanded  those  days  to  rise  and  defile  before 
me  in  a  long  glittering  line ;  and  I  went  over  every  scene, 
every  sensation,  every  emotion,  whether  of  suffering  or  de 
light,  happiness  or  anguish.  I  mean  that  I  recalled  them, 
by  an  effort  of  memory,  not  that  I  really  felt  them.  No :  I 
did  not  flush,  and  grow  pale,  and  tear  my  breast,  and  rave, 
as  was  my  wont  formerly  : — I  smiled.  I  saw  that  splendid 
passionate  beauty  again,  but  she  no  longer  filled  my  heart 
with  delirious  love,  mad  anguish  :  she  interested  me  merely. 
I  felt,  as  you  may  imagine  a  man  feels,  when  he  is  listening 
to  some  fine  effort  of  an  improvisatore  ; — where  the  passions, 
feelings,  incidents,  all,  interest  without  moving  you  very 
deeply,  however  tragic.  The  drama  of  my  life  was  merely 
a  drama  to  me  now :  and  I  smiled  at  my  old  infatuation. 
To  make  the  drama  complete,  I  raised  the  window — sum 
moned  perforce  of  my  imagination  the  instruments  of  that  wild 
and  unworthy  scheme  ;  and  then,  with  a  stealthy  tread,  ap 
proached  the  chair  which  she  had  lain  sleeping  in.  I  saw 
again  her  enchanting  face,  with  its  tender  languid  beauty  as 
she  slept : — the  profuse  curls  upon  her  snowy  neck,  the  un 
dulations  of  her  figure,  as  half  reclining  in  the  chair,  she 
drew  long  breaths,  worn  out  with  watching,  and  slumbering 
heavily.  I  saw  it  all,  and  would  huve  smiled  again  at  the 


ASPIRATIO-NS    OF    MR.    JACK    HAMILTON.  7* 

comedy  I  was  playing,  had  not  my  conscience  reproached  me 
bitterly  for  that  act : — that  stratagem  which  was  so  un 
worthy  of  me,  as  it  is  unworthy  of  a  man  to  cheat  a  child 
I  sat  down  again,  and  thought  of  her  in  her  far  mountain 
home,  the  happy  wife  of  my  rival — I  left  out  no  particular, 
I  tested  my  heart  to  the  very  bottom — and  what  was  the 
result  ?  Why,  indifference,  Hamilton  !  My  infatuation 
was  dead,  and  I  slept  as  soundly  that  night  in  the  apart 
ment  she  had  moved  about  in  like  a  bright  sunbeam,  a. 
ever  I  did  worn  out  with  travel  in  the  inns  of  Switzerland. 

"  Well,  here  I  am  now,  and  I  am  happily  over  all  that 
• — the  play  is  played,  the  curtain  has  fallen  on  the  whole, 
and  it  is  forgotten.  Let  it  go  :  I  went  and  took  my  part  in 
it  of  my  own  accord,  and  cannot  complain  that  the  fiery  pas 
sions  of  the  drama  have  worn  me  out.  I  am  completely 
worn  out.  and  there  you  see,  I  have  returned  precisely  to 
what  I  commenced  with." 

Hamilton  had  listened  to  this  narrative  in  almost  per 
fect  silence  ;  and  he  now  remained  silent  for  some  time  lon 
ger.  At  length,  looking  curiously  at  Mr.  Effingham,  who, 
stretched  languidly  in  his  chair,  was  gazing  listlessly  through 
the  window,  the  honest  fellow  said  suddenly,  with  some  em 
barrassment  : 

"  Champ,  have  you  seen  Clare  Lee  yet  ?  " 

Mr.  Effingham  looked  intently  at  his  friend  for  an  in 
stant,  and  then  turning  away  his  eyes  again,  said,  indiffer 
ently  : 

"  Yes." 

Hamilton  found  himself  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed.  Mr. 
Effingham  came  to  his  relief. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said,  calmly  ;  "  and  I  will 
answer  the  question  which  you  have  not  asked — but  you 
have  looked  it.  You  mean,  Hamilton,  that  perhaps  my  in 
difference  to  every  thing,  my  deadness,  if  you  like  the  word 
springs  from  the  fact  that  I  have  not  yet  seen  the  girl  whose 
presence  used  to  have  such  an  effect  on  me.  You  are  mis 
taken  :  I  have  seen  her,  and  I  was  perfectly  calm.  On  the 
day  I  arrived  at  the  Hall,  she  chanced  to  be  here  on  a  visit^ 
and  when  I  made  my  appearance  she  was  standing  directly 
in  front  of  me,  leaning  on  the  harpsichord.  Let  me  confess 
that  I  did  experience  something  like  a  distinct  emotion  u 


72  ASPIRATIONS   Of   HR.    JACK   HAMILTON. 

on  seeing  her,  but,  my  dear  fellow,  it  did  not  last.  My 
heart  is  too  much  like  a  sullen  lake,  deep  and  black  : — it  is 
not  moved  by  so  slight  a  breeze — and  I  was  quite  calm 
again  in  a  moment,  and  bowed  low,  and  turned  round  and 
conversed  with  a  placidity  wholly  unaffected.  I  do  not  say 
that  the  sight  of  Clare,"  continued  Mr.  Effinghani,  in  a 
slightly  altered  tone,  "  did  not  afford  me  a  certain  degree 
of  pleasure  and  pain.  I  loved  her  once,  and  my  affection 
was  of  that  simple,  tender  description,  which  outlasts  a 
thousand  bursts  of  passion  :  for  it  makes  up  in  depth  what 
it  lacks  in  fire.  But  I  was  not  deeply  stirred — and  I  think 
I  felt  greater  pleasure  at  seeing  all  here,  than  at  meeting  her. 
Ah  !  I  think  she  has  almost  forgotten  my  wild  vagaries — a 
good  girl ! " 

And  Mr.  Effingham,  for  a  moment,  looked  less  weary. 
Hamilton  was  thinking  of  the  narrative  he  had  just  listened 
to,  and  endeavoring  by  an  exertion  of  his  not  very  powerful 
mind,  to  arrive  at  the  psychological  significance  of  it.  Mr. 
Effingham  came  to  his  assistance. 

"  You  are  puzzling  yourself,"  he  said,  with  a  languid 
smile,  "  to  make  out  what  I  am,  Hamilton.  What  is  the 
sum  total  of  all  these  various  emotions,  conflicting  passions  ? 
I  will  tell  you.  It  is  weariness,  indifference,  and  content,  if 
I  may  be  allowed  thus  to  couple  what  see.n  to  be  incompati 
ble  things.  I  assure  you  that  I  care  for  nothing  in  the 
world.  I  love  the  family,  I  am  fond  of  the  Hall  here  ;  but 
these  feelings  are  not  very  strong.  As  to  my  convictions 
opinions,  I  believe  in  nothing,  Hamilton,  I  care  for  nothing. 
I  get  angry  sometimes,  thinking  of  his  gracious  Majesty's 
legislation  on  Virginia  matters  ;  but  after  all  the  thought 
comes  'What  is  the  use  ?  Why  should  I  trouble  myself 
about  his  Majesty  ?  He  wearies  me.'  As  to  any  ambition, 
any  social  or  political  aspiration,  I  have  none ;  it  wearies 
me,  just  as  every  thing  wearied  me  in  Europe.  I  played 
whole  days  and  nights,  in  Paris,  and  got  up  and  kicked  aside 
the  pile  of  cards  around  my  ankles,  with  perfect  indifference ; 
I  was  neither  elevated  nor  depressed  by  good  or  bad  fortune, 
and  gave  a  check  on  my  banker,  if  I  lost,  or  stuffed  the  gold 
I  won  into  my  pocket,  without  emotion,  good  or  bad.  I  went 
and  listened  to  innumerable  tragedies,  incessant  operas  in 
France  and  Italy ;  they  wearied  me.  I  believe  I  fought 


ASPIRATIONS    OF    MR.    JACK    HAMILTON.  73 

three  or  four  times,  with  men  I  had  no  intention  to  insult— 
I  left  the  ground  after  these  events,  with  my  scratches,  when 
I  got  any,  as  I  came ;  indifferently.  I  have  no  gallant  ex 
periences  to  add  to  this — I  got  enough  of  women  here,  and 
made  a  resolution  to  avoid  them,  to  which  resolution  I  have 
religiously  adhered.  Well,  you  see  I  am  worn  out — I  be 
lieve  in  nothing — I  take  interest  in  nothing — I  do  not  com 
plain — I  shall  probably  vegetate  here,  and  become  a  fat,  ho 
nest  squire,  presiding,  possibly,  at  county  courts,  and  talking 
knowingly  of  tobacco,  and  the  prices  of  cattle  and  of  blood 
and  so,  at  the  appointed  time,  go  the  way  of  all  humanity. 
There  it  is." 

And  Mr.  Effingham  gazed  at  the  fire  as  calmly  as  he  had 
spoken.  Hamilton  looked  at  him  closely  for  some  time,  and 
then  said  : 

"  Champ,  you  want  a  physician  1  " 

"  A  physician  ?  "  asked  his  friend. 

«  Yes." 

"  I  am  not  sick  1 " 

"  Yes  you  are.' 

"  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you." 

"  Sick  ?  " 

"  Very  sick." 

Mr.  Emngham  nodded. 

"  Oh !  I  understand  you  now ; "  he  said,  "  my  mind  you 
fancy,  is  not  healthy." 

"  I  don't  imagine  any  thing  about  it.  By  George  1  I 
know  it." 

"  Well?" 

"  Let  me  be  your  doctor  ?  ' 

"You?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Effingham. 

"  Will  you  follow  my  directions — take  my  prescriptions  ?" 

"  That  depends  wholly  upon  their  flavor." 

"  Come  now — you  retreat  at  once." 

"  No." 

"  If  I  ask  nothing  unreasonable  ? :' 

"  Will  I  put  myself  under  the  direction  of  Doctor 
Hamilton  ? "  said  Mr.  Emugham,  smiling  faintly  at  the 


74  ASPIRATIONS    Of    MR.    JACt   HAMILTON. 

honest  fellow's  earnestness ;  "  is  that  what  you  meant  to 
say  ?  » 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  promise  that  much  very  cheerfully." 

u  Good  !  "  cried  honest  Jack  ;  "  I'll  cure  you,  by  George ! 
and  make  you  a  jolly  companion  again,  or  I'll  eat  my  head." 

"  You  would  have  an  awful  indigestion,"  replied  Mr.  Ef- 
fingham ;  "  but  let  me  hear  your  scheme." 

"  No,  that  does  not  concern  you ;  I  take  the  responsi 
bility  of  the  drugs.  No  cure,  no  pay." 

"  And  what  will  be  your  pay,  provided  you  succeed  ?" 

"  The  satisfaction  of  hearing  you  laugh  loud  enough  to 
shake  the  windows,  and  seeing  you  become  the  jolly  boy  of 
former  times  again." 

"  Jack,  you  are  the  best  friend  I  have,  upon  my  honor,  I 
think,"  said  Mr.  Effingham.  "  I  wish  you  were  as  excellent 
a  physician." 

"  Never  mind  !  by  Jove  !  we'll  make  the  trial.  And  as 
you  say  you  do  not  believe  in  any  thing,  I  do  not  ask  you  to 
believe  in  my  proficiency  in  the  art,  until  you  feel  it.  I  am 
going  now  to  see  Tom  Lane.  Goodbye." 

"  Do  not  go  yet ;  come,  you  are  fashionable." 

"  No,  I  must  go,"  said  Hamilton,  shaking  hands  with  his 
friend,  and  putting  on  his  hat.  "  My  horse  is  there — I  told 
them  not  to  take  him.  By  Jove  !  look  at  him !  he's  a  splen 
did  fellow.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  sweep  of  the  loin? 
Remember  now — I  commence  next  week ! " 

And  whistling  merrily,  Mr.  Hamilton  departed. 

"  There  goes  a  happy  man,  and  an  honest  fellow,"  said 
Mr.  Effingham,  going  languidly  into  the  library  ;  "  an  intel 
ligent  mind  too.  There  is  only  one  delusion  under  which  he 
labors — he  thinks  he  can  cure  me." 

Mr.  Effingham  took  his  hat  and  cane,  and  strolled  out  on 
the  lawn. 

"  Very  pretty,  and  very  wearisome  1 "  he  said,  looking 
at  the  landscape.  And  he  turned  away. 


tHE    OTHER    PHYSICIAN.  75 

CHAPTER  XL 

FHE   OTHER   PHYSICIAN. 

JOST  as  Mr.  Effingham  turned  to  enter  the  Hall  again,  woary 
already  of  the  lovely  afternoon,  spite  of  its  azure  skies,  and 
singing  birds,  and  pleasant  breezes  rustling  the  leaves,  and 
the  small  brilliant  flowers  scattered  over  the  lawn,  he  heard 
a  merry  child's  voice  calling  him,  from  the  banks  of  the  lit 
tle  stream  which  gurgled  over  its  mossy  rocks,  at  the  foot  of 
•«he  hill. 

He  looked  round,  and  saw  Kate,  who  was  running  to 
wards  him,  making  signs  to  him. 

"Oh,  Cousin  Champ!  come  and  look  at  Snowdrop!' 
she  cried,  enthusiastically,  as  she  grasped  his  hand  and 
turned  her  bright  little  face  with  its  sparkling  eyes  and 
laughing  lips  up  to  him  ;  "  just  come  and  see  how  pretty  I 
have  made  Snowdrop,  please  !  " 

Mr.  Effingham  smiled,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  led 
down  the  hill  toward  the  stream.  On  the  grassy  margin 
stood  a  young  heifer,  as  white  as  snow,  munching  with  indif 
ferent  pleasure,  grass,  moss,  and  the  early  flowers.  Snow 
drop,  as  Kate  had  dubbed  the  heifer,  exhibited  a  most  ex 
traordinary  appearance,  which  fact  was  attributable  to  her 
mistress,  it  was  very  plain.  The  animal  was  decked  out 
with  a  multiplicity  of  red  and  blue  ribbons  tied  in  flutter 
ing  bows  ;  and  altogether  presented  an  extraordinarily  pic 
turesque  spectacle,  as  she  quietly,  and  with  the  air  of  a  con 
scious  favorite,  munched  the  flowery  grass. 

"  Just  look  !  isn't  she  pretty  !  "  cried  Kate,  in  a  parox 
ysm  of  delight.  "  Did  you  ever  see  any  thing  prettier  in 
all  your  life,  now,  Cousin  Champ  ?  So  !  Snowdrop,  so — so  I " 
and  Kate  caressed  the  white  neck  of  the  heifer,  who  raised 
her  intelligent  head,  and  licked  the  hand  of  her  young  mis 
tress. 

"  Are  those  the  ribbons  I  gave  you,"  asked  Mr.  Ef 
fingham,  smiling,  "  brought  all  the  way,  with  the  rest  of  your 
presents,  in  my  trunk  from  London  ?" 

*'  Oh  no  ! "  cried  Kate,  "  I  wouldn't  pet  Snowdrop  up 


76  THE    OTHER    PHYSICIAN. 

BO  !     No,  indeed  !  I'm  going  to  irake  something  nice  with 
them,  something  for  you." 

"  What,  pray,  Katy  ?  " 

"  Why  a  knot  for  your  sword  hilt,  or  a  lovely  bow  for 
your  coat,  to  wear  at  the  party." 

Mr.  Effingham  smiled  again. 

"  I  have  done  with  all  those  vanities,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
shall  be  very  plain  at  the  party,  which  it  seems  they  are 
bent  on." 

•"  Oh  yes  !  it  will  be  so  nice  ;  but  you  mustn't  dress  in 
black,  Cousin  Champ." 

"  What  then — white  and  ribbons,  like  Snowdrop  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  in  blue  and  gold — your  pretty  suit  you  know." 

"  Do  you  think  Snowdrop  would  be  handsome  if  she  was 
blue,  and  you  decorated  her  with  gold-colored  ribbon  ?  " 

Kate  burst  into  a  shout  of  laughter. 

"  Oh,  wouldn't  that  be  funny  ?"  she  cried,  shaking  with 
merriment.  "  What  do  you  think,  Miss  Snowdrop — tell  me 
now  ?  " 

Snowdrop  remained  mute. 

"  You  must  teach  her  to  converse,"  said  Mr.  Effingham. 

"  I  believe  I  could  !  "  cried  Kate,  "  she  is  so  smart,  and 
good,  and  likes  me  so  much.  Don't  you,  Snowdrop  ?  " 

And  Kate  paused  for  a  reply.  Instead  of  replying,  how 
ever,  the  heifer,  having  exhausted  the  spot  she  stood  upon, 
moved  away  indifferently  from  her  mistress,  and  vouchsafed 
no  further  exhibition  of  regard.  She  began  to  graze  quietly 
on  the  flowery  margin,  at  some  distance. 

"  The  horrid  thing  !  "  cried  the  child,  "  to  be  so  ungrate 
ful  !  Well,  she  may  go  along." 

Mr.  Effingham  smiled  again. 

"  Tell  her  goodbye,  and  let  us  go  in,  and  look  at  the  new 
book  of  engravings,"  he  said. 

"  No,"  Kate  replied,  laughing,  "  I  won't  take  any  more 
notice  of  her.  Listen  how  the  bluebirds  are  singing  !  and 
look  at  Tray,  yonder,  rolling  on  the  grass  !  " 

They  approached  and  entered  the  Hall,  and  Mr.  Effing 
ham  took  from  the  book-case  in  the  library,  the  book  of  pic 
tures.  The  man  and  the  child  amused  themselves  over  it  foi 
some  time,  Kate  sitting  in  his  lap,  as  was  habitual  with  her. 
A.t  last  the  volume  was  gone  through  with,  and  laid  aside. 


THE   OTHER   PHYSICIAN.  77 

Kate  laid  her  head  on  Mr.  Effingham's  shoulder,  and 
sang  in  a  low  tone,  thoughtfully.  Mr.  Effiugham  gazed  for 
some  moments  quietly  into  the  little  face,  and  said  : 

"  What  is  that  you're  singing,  Kate  V  " 

"  '  It's  hame,  and  its  hame,'  "  replied  the  child,  "  I 
didn't  know  I  was  singing." 

"  It  is  very  sweet : — commence  now  and  sing  it  through, 
for  me.  I  like  to  hear  you." 

"  Do  you  really  ?  "  said  Kate,  smoothing  back  her  hair. 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  I'll  always  sing  when  you  ask  me,  then  ;  but  you  know 
I'll  do  any  thing  you  want  me  to." 

And  Kate  sang,  in  her  small  child's  voice,  and  with  great 
sweetness : 

"  It's  hame,  and  it's  hame,  and  it's  hame  I  fain  wad  be, 
O  hame,  hame,  hame,  to  my  ain  countrie ; 
There's  an  e'e  that  ever  weeps,  and  a  fair  face  will  be  fain 
As  I  pass  through  Annan  water  wi'  my  bonny  oaad  again; 
When  the  flower  is  i'  the  bud,  and  the  leat  t;pon  the  tree, 
The  lark  shall  sing  me  hame  in  my  ain  countrie  i 

"  Hame,  hame,  hame, — hame  I  fain  wad  be, 
0  hame,  hame,  hame,  to  my  ain  countrie; 
The  green  leaf  o'  loyalty's  beginning  for  to  fa', 
The  bonny  white  rose  it  is  witherin'  an'  a' ; 
But  I'll  water't  wi'  the  blude  of  usurping  tyrannic, 
And  green  it  will  grow  in  my  am  countrie! 

"  Hame,  hame,  hame, — hame  I  fain  wad  be, 
0  hame,  hame,  hame,  to  my  ain  countrie ; 
There's  nought  now  frae  ruin  my  countrie  can  save, 
But  the  keys  of  kind  Heaven  to  open  the  grave 
That  a'  the  noble  martyrs  wha  died  for  loyaltie, 
May  rise  again  and  fight  for  their  ain  countrie. 

Hame,  hame,  hame, — hame  I  fain  wad  be, 

O  hame,  hame,  hame,  to  my  ain  countrie ; 

The  great  now  are  gane,  a'  wlia  ventured  to  save, 

The  new  grass  is  growing  aboon  their  bloody  grave; 

But  the  sun  through  the  mirk  blinks  blythe  in  my  e'e, 

'  I'll  shine  in  ye  yet  in  your  ain  countrie.' " 

The  tender  little  voice  ended  its  sweet  carol,  and  for 
some  time  Mr.  Effingham  was  quite  silent,  caressing  ab 
sently,  the  child's  small  hand,  which  lay  in  his  own. 


78  THE   OTHER    PHYSICIAN. 

"  That  is  a  very  pretty  song,  Kate,"  he  6*.d  at  length , 
and  in  an  abstracted  voice  he  repeated  : 

'When  the  flower  is  in  the  bud  and  the  leaf  upon  the  tree, 
The  lark  shall  sing  me  home  in  my  own  countrie.' 

That  might  apply  to  me,"  he  added,  smiling,  "  you  know 
that  I  have  come  back  just  as  the  larks  are  beginning  to 
Bing." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  cried  Kate,  "  and  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  the  larks  for  singing  you  home." 

"  Then,  you  are  really  glad  to  see  me  back  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  ask  me  that  ? "  Kate  said,  reproach 
fully. 

"  Why  are  you  glad  ?  Come,  tell  me,"  he  asked  smil 
ing. 

"  Because  I  love  you,"  said  the  child,  simply. 

"  And  why  do  you  love  me  ?  " 

"  Because  you  love  me,"  said  Kate,  laughing,  "  isn't  that 
the  best  reason  in  the  world  ?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is  a  very  good  reason,  and  is  very  true  :  but 
come,  tell  me  what  you  think  of  me,  Kate — I  am  anxious 
to  know." 

"  I  can't  answer  that :  how  could  I  ?  " 
'  Am  I  good,  or  bad  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you're  good  !  " 

"  Not  very — I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever  die  of  excessive 
goodness.  But  go  on — what  else  am  I  ?  " 

"  You  are  kind,"  continued  Kate,  with  a  bright  affection 
ate  look  in  her  small  face. 

" Am  I  ? " 

"  Yes,  indeed  :  to  me  especially." 

"  That's  because  you  are  such  a  poor  little  creature,  not 
jauch  higher  than  my  thumb,"  said  Mr.  Effingham,  forget 
ting  his  weariness,  and  smiling. 

"  Indeed  I  as.  not,"  said  Kate,  "  I'm  nearly  an  inch 
taller  than  I  was  last  year.  Oh  !  you're  jesting,"  she  add 
ed,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Well,  go  on  now,  and  tell  me  something  more  about 
myself.  I  am  anxious  to  know.  Am  I  very  agreeable— 
witty,  amusing,  entertaining  ?  do  you  *ver  laugh  heartily 
when  I  talk  to  you  ?  " 


THE    OTHER    PHYSICIAJt  79 

"  No,  I  don't  think  I  do  :  but  you  know  you  have  not 
come  back  very  well." 

"  Who,  I  ?  "  said  Mr.  Effingham,  "  why  1  am  the  picture 
of  health." 

"  No,  indeed  you  are  not,  cousin  Champ  :  your  cheeks 
arc  thinner  and  paler  than  I  like  to  see  them." 

"  My  face  pale— thin  ?  " 

"'  Yes — and  it  grieves  me  :  indeed  it  does." 

"  Are  you  ever  grieved  at  any  thing,  Kate  ?  I  thought 
that  you  were  always  so  bright,  and  merry,  and  laughing ; 
playing  with  Willie,  and  decking  out  Snowdrop,  and  run 
ning  about  like  a  sunbeam  incessantly,  that  you  never  stop 
ped  t,o  think  a  moment,  much  less  to  grieve." 

"  Indeed,  you  are  mistaken  :  I  think  a  great  deal,"  said 
Kate,  "  I  think  when  I  am  playing,  and  sewing,  and  even 
when  I  am  singing." 

"What  do  you  think  of?" 

"  Of  any  thing — of  you,  or  papa,  or  myself,  or  mamma." 

"  Of  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  cousin  Champ,"  said  Kate,  quite  simply,  "  you 
know  mamma  is  in  heaven." 

Mr.  Effingham  made  no  reply. 

"  But  what  do  you  grieve  about  ?  "  he  asked  at  length. 
"  You  said  you  grieved, Katy." 

"  Yes,  I  grieve,  but  not  often.  I  grieve  about  you  some 
times." 

"  Since  my  return  ?  " 

"  Yes,  cousin  Champ,  and  while  you  were  away  too.  T 
didn't  like  you  to  be  away — for  you  know  you  were  my  play 
mate." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Emngham. 

"  I  had  other  playmates — Willie  and  Tommy  Alston, 
and  Sue  Ashton,  but  I  liked  you  the  best :  and  then  you 
know  I  thought  you  couldn't  be  so  happy  across  the  sea  as 
here." 

"  I  don't  think  I  was." 

"  I  used  to  want  you  to  come  back  mightily :  and  I've 
prayed  often  for  you,  too." 

Mr.  Emngham  smoothed  the  bright  little  head  in  silence. 

"  You  don't  know  how  delighted  I  was,  when  your  let 


80  THE   OTHER   rilYS'ClAN 

ter  came,"  continued  Kate,  laying  her  cheek  on  Mr.  Effing- 
ham's  shoulder. 

"  Were  you  ?  "  he  said,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  but  I  thought  you  would  come  back  looking  bet 
ter — how  did  you  grow  so  pale  ?  " 

And  the  child  looked  affectionately  at  the  white  brow, 
and  thin  cheek. 

"  Am  I  pale  ?  "  he  said,  "  well,  I  must  get  rosy  again, 
and  not  make  my  little  pet  grieve." 

"  Indeed,  I  wish  you  would  look  merry  and  well  again — 
I  don't  like  to  see  you  looking  so  tired,  and  as  if  you  did 
not  care  much  for  any  thing." 

These  words  were  so  perfect  an  echo  to  what  Mr.  Effing- 
ham  had  said  of  himself  a  little  while  before,  that  he  was 
struck. 

"  But,  suppose  I  do  not  care  for  any  thing  ?  "  he  said. 
tl  Listen  now,  Katy  :  suppose  I  considered  life,  this  world  you 
know,  a  place  where  people  dressed  up  and  went  through  their 
parts,  as  a  matter  of  course,  because  other  people  were  look 
ing  at  them ;  and  suppose  I  thought  that  all  their  merry 
faces,  and  laughing,  and  going  on,  was  affected — and  often 
hid  a  feeling  of  disquiet,  I  mean  painful  feeling.  Suppose 
I  did  not  take  any  interest  in  any  thing,  because  the  world 
was  not  bright,  and  disagreeable  things  were  always  putting 
me  out  of  temper : — suppose  I  really  did  not  care  any  thing 
for  the  world,  or  the  people  in  it  ?  " 

"  But  that  would  be  wrong,"  said  Kate,  simply. 

"  How  ?  " 

"  Because  the  world  is  not  so  bad  and  disagreeable." 

"  Isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no." 

"But  if  I  thought  so?" 

'*  Well,  cousik  Champ,  I  think  you  still  ought  to  do  your 
duty." 

"  My  duty  ?  " 

"  Yes :  you  know  there  is  a  great  deal  of  good  to  be 
done  in  the  world,  and  nobody  has  the  right  to  leave  it  un 
done.  Don't  be  offended  with  me : — I  wouldn't  say  it,  you 
know,  if  it  wasn't  right;  or,  I  mean,  if  I  didn't  think  it  was 
right :  and  I  don't  mean  you." 

Mr.  Effingham  was  silent. 


THE   OTHER    PHYSICIAN. 

"  I  read  a  good  deal  in  my  Bible,"  said  Kate,  "  and  oh  ! 
did  I  ever  tell  you  what  a  strange  thing  happened  ?  I  miss 
ed  it  one  day — iny  little  old  Bible,  that  papa  gave  me,  you 
know — and  I  couldn't  think  where  in  the  world  it  was. 
Well,  about  a  month  afterwards  it  was  brought  to  the  Hall, 
by  somebody,  without  any  message,  and  wrapped  up  so 
nicely." 

For  a  moment  a  cloud  passed  over  Mr.  Effingham's  face, 
as  he  recalled  those  past  scenes,  which  the  child  with  the 
thoughtlessness  of  youth  had  apparently  forgotten.  This 
cloud  soon  passed  away  however,  and  he  said : 

"  You  dropped  it  somewhere,  and  some  honest  person 
found  it.  Do  you  read  much  in  it,  Kate  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  every  night ;  and  I  ought  to,  you  know,  because 
God  has  been  so  good  to  me,  and  he  commands  us  to." 

"  Yes." 

"  We  ought  not  to  forget  God,"  said  Kate,  "  at  least,  I 
ought  not  to,  for  he  sent  papa  to  take  me,  when  I  hadn't  any 
father  or  mother." 

Mr.  Effingham  passed  his  hand  over  her  hair,  softly. 

"  That  was  our  duty,"  he  said,  "  you  are  our  blood,  and 
besides,"  he  added,  smiling,  "  you  are  not  so  poor,  Katy : 
you  are  quite  a  little  heiress." 

"  I  know  papa  says,  I  am  not  poor,"  Kate  said  simply, 
"  but  money  you  know  couldn't  buy  love.'' 

"  Indeed,— no." 

"  And  everybody  loves  me,"  said  Kate.  "  It  makes  me 
happy  to  think  of  that,  and  I  try  to  be  good." 

The  child's  face  wore  such  a  simple,  tender  look,  at  the 
moment,  that  Mr.  Effingham  turned  his  eyes  from  it,  to  a 
portrait  over  the  fire-place,  which  wore  an  expression  strik 
ingly  similiar. 

"  You  are  very  much  like  my  mother,  Katy,"  he  said, 
softly,  "  you  know  your  father  and  mine  married  cousins." 

"  Did  they  ?  I  am  very  glad — they  are  in  heaven  to 
gether,  you  know,  cousin  Champ  "  she  said,  simply. 

Mr.  Effingham  looked  at  the  child  again,  and  felt  hia 
heart  much  softened. 

"  You  are  a  good  little  creature,  Kate,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
think  it  does  not  hurt  me  to  talk  to  you.  Now  come,  let  ua 

18 


82  •      A    LANDSCAPE    WITH   FIGURES. 

take  a  little  walk.  The  evening  is  very  fresh  and  piet*y 
and  I  think  you  will  enjoy  it." 

'  Oh  yes !  "  cried  Kate,  springing  up,  "  I'll  get  my  hat  in 
a  moment." 

And  she  ran  up  stairs,  and  returned  almost  immediately, 
with  a  small  wide-rimmed  straw  hat  decked  with  ribbon, 
and  a  light  velvet  pelisse,  which  she  threw  around  her  shoul 
ders,  rather  to  feel  that  she  had  some  wrapping  on,  than  be 
cause  the  pleasant  afternoon  required  it. 

Then  hand  in  hand  the  man  and  the  child  issued  forth, 
and  took  their  way  along  the  white,  winding  road,  toward  the 
gate,  visible  at  some  distance  through  the  wood. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A  LANDSCAPE  WITH  FIGURES. 

KATE  and  Mr.  Effingham  reached  and  passed  through  the 
old  gate,  and  determined  to  extend  their  walk  to  a  knoll,  two 
or  three  hundred  yards  beyond  the  little  stream  which  cross 
ed  the  road.  The  stream  was  rendered  passable  by  means 
of  a  narrow  footway,  constructed  of  two  large  logs,  above 
which  extended  a  slender  sapling  fixed  to  a  tree  upon  either 
side,  and  meant  to  answer  the  purpose  of  a  balustrade. 

Kate  entered  upon  the  narrow  path  over  the  brawling 
little  stream,  with  fear  and  trembling  and  laughter.  The 
swaying  banister,  so  to  speak,  was  very  insecure,  and  one 
might  have  supposed  that  Miss  Kate  Effingham  was  taking 
lessons  in  the  noble  art  of  rope-dancing,  so  carefully,  with 
her  right  arm  extended,  did  she  balance  herself  upon  the  in 
secure  footway. 

"  Oh,  me  !  I'll  fall  in  !  I'm  sure  I  shall ! "  she  cried,  "  oh, 
cousin  Champ !  " 

Mr.  Effingham  smiled,  and  said : 

"  Well,  madam,  you  chose  to  precede  me.  It  is  your 
own  fault." 

"  Oh  1 "  continued  Kate,  making  the  most  extraordinary 
gyrations  with  her  right  arm,  "  oh  1  the  tree  is  giving 
way  1 " 


A   LANDSCAPE   WITH    FIGURES.  83 

In  fact,  the  sapling  began  to  bend  more  than  ever. 

"  I  shall  fall  in  !  I  know  I  shall !  "  cried  Kate,  laughing 
and  trying  to  steady  herself.  "  Oh  !  cousin  !  " 

Two  strong  arms  raised  the  child,  and  bore  her  across. 

"  Thank  you  !  "  she  cried,  "  I  never  should  have  got  over, 
I  think." 

And  they  proceeded  toward  the  hill,  which  they  soon 
reached.  From  the  summit,  there  was  a  fine  view  of  the 
Hall,  which  raised  its  princely  walls  above  the  embowering 
foliage  in  the  sunset.  The  windows  seemed  to  be  on  fire 
with  the  crimson  light  of  evening,  and  the  rich  rays  died 
away  across  the  broad  champaign  in  roseate  splendor — faint 
ing,  tailing,  dying.  It  was  one  of  those  lovely  scenes  which 
are  so  common  in  Virginia,  when  the  sun  seems  to  linger, 
loth  to  leave  the  fair  fields  and  tall  forests. 

"  Look,  Katy,"  said  Mr.  Efiingham,  "  that  is  as  pretty 
a  sight  as  you  could  find  if  you  wepe  to  travel  a  thousand 
miles." 

"  It's  lovely  ! "  cried  Kate,  leaning  her  head  against  his 
shoulder,  and  gazing  at  the  landscape  with  her  large  bright 
eyes  ;  "  and  look  at  the  clouds  !" 

"  Yes  :  all  gold.  There  is  nothing  as  fine  as  this  in  Italy 
— though  I  have  seen  something  like  it  from  a  hill  near  Flo 
rence.  Ah  !  they  have  painters  there — there  are  no  paint 
ers,  no  artists  in  Virginia :  the  time  has  not  come — but  it 
will  come." 

"  Look !  "  cried  Kate,  "  there  is  the  carriage." 

And  she  pointed  to  the  left,  where  the  winding  road 
plunged  into  the  woodland.  There,  indeed,  was  the  Hall 
chariot  rolling  on  slowly  toward  them,  the  four  glossy  horses 
lit  up  by  the  last  rays  of  the  sun. 

"  Somebody's  with  them,"  continued  Kate;  "  see  what  a 
fine-looking-man,  and  what  a  beautiful  horse.  I  never  saw 
any  thing  as  pretty." 

"  As  the  man — or  the  horse  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Effingham,  with 
a  faint  smile. 

"  Oh,  the  horse  !  look  what  slender,  pretty  legs  he  has, 
and  what  a  fine  head  and  mane." 

"The  man?" 

"  Oh,  no  1  you  are  laughing  at  me :  the  horse  :  who  can 
it  be?" 


84  A    LANDSCAPE    WITH   FIGURES. 

"  It  is  Captain  Ralph  Waters,"  said  Mr.  Effingham,  calm 
ly,  "  let  us  go  and  meet  them." 

Kate  gave  a  delighted  assent  to  this  proposition ;  and  de 
scending  the  hill  again,  they  reached  the  stream  just  as  the 
carriage  drove  to  the  bank. 

"  Ah  !  there's  my  excellent  cousin  !  "  cried  the  voice  of 
Miss  Henrietta  Lee,  from  the  chariot :  and  the  brilliant 
head  of  that  young  lady  projected  itself  from  the  window. 

Mr.  Effingham  bowed  :  and  then  turning  to  Captain  Ralph 
said  in  his  calm,  courteous  voice : 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,  sir :  give  you  good  even 
ing." 

"  Why,  good  evening,  companion,"  replied  the  Captain, 
"  delighted  to  see  you,  though  I  did  not  anticipate  that  plea 
sure." 

"  I  have  been  taking  a  short  walk — myself  and  my  little 
eousin." 

The  Captain  made  Kate  a  very  courteous  little  bow,  which 
that  young  lady  was  much  pleased  with. 

"  A  short  walk,  eh  ?  "  continued  the  Captain ;  "  how  ia 
that?" 

"  There  is  the  Hall,  sir — it  is  not  far." 

"  The  Hall  ?  "  said  the  Captain,  drawing  rein,  "  ah  !  the 
Hall ! » 

And  a  cloud  passed  over  the  worthy  soldier's  brow. 

"  I  believe  I  must  return,"  he  added,  approaching  the 
•window  of  the  carriage,  and  bowing  to  Henrietta,  Alethca,  and 
the  squire. 

"  I  trust,  Captain  Waters,  that  you  will  not  be  so  un 
friendly  as  to  leave  us  at  the  door  of  my  house,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  with  frank  courtesy :  and  he  added,  in  a  lower 
tone,  "  I  understand,  sir,  that  your  last  visit  was  on  a  disa 
greeable  occasion,  and  did  not  tempt  you  to  repeat  your  call 
but  let  the  past  sleep ;  you  will  do  me  an  honor  and  a  plea 
sure." 

The  Captain  twisted  in  his  seat,  twirled  his  moustache, 
and  made  no  reply. 

"  Do  not  afflict  me,  sir,"  said  the  squire,  in  the  same  low 
tone,  and  with  as  much  cordial  courtesy  as  before,  "by  caus 
ing  me  to  recollect  events  which  should  be  forgotten.  Come, 
sir — 1  ask  you  to  do  me  a  personal  favor." 

The  Captain  half  yielded,  muttering  to  himself. 


A   LANDSCAPE   WITH   FIGURES.  85 

"The  ladies  must  be  tired  of  me,"  he  said;  "1  am  only 
a  rude  soldier,  sir :  come  now,  Madam  Henrietta,  say  1  are 
you  not  tired  of  me  ?  " 

This  was  one  of  those  decisive  questions  which  can  only 
be  answered  by  a  lady  in  the  negative  ;  as  she  could  only  say 
yes,  therefore,  Henrietta  said  nothing. 

"  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  go,  sir,"  said  Miss 
Alethea,  "  and  I  am  quite  as  sure  that  Henrietta  will." 

No  reply  from  Henrietta. 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  the.  Captain,  seeming  to  conquer  his  re 
pugnance  at  last,  "many  thanks.  I  will  weary  you  a  little 
longer.  But  is  this  young  lady  going  to  walk  ?  "  continued 
the  soldier,  pointing  to  Kate.  "Take  my  horse,  he  is  per 
fectly  gentle,  ma  petite  Mademoiselle ;  will  you  not  ?  I  will  fix 
the  stirrup  for  you." 

"  I'm  afraid,  sir,"  Kate  replied,  laugning;  "I  don't  mind 
walking,  if  I  was  over  the  run." 

"  Basta  1  then  permit  me  to  transport  your  small  lady 
ship,"  said  the  soldier,  laughing. 

And  he  rode  up  to  the  fallen  tree,  upon  whicli  Kate  was 
standing. 

The  child  was  quite  delighted  with  this  proposition, 
and  first  interrogating  the  old  gentleman  by  a  glance,  was 
soon  perched  behind  the  Captain,  who  bore  her  across  in  an 
instant  behind  the  carriage. 

"Do  you  like  your  seat,  Ma'mselle  ?  "  asked  the  Cap 
tain. 

"  Did  you  speak  to  me,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  :  Ma'm'selle  is  the  outlandish  for  miss." 

41  Yes,  sir — I  like  to  ride  on  such  a  pretty  horse." 

"  Then  I'll  carry  you  all  the  way,  mafoi!" 

"1  don't  want  to  leave  cousin  Champ,"  said  Kate. 

Mr.  Efflngham,  who  had  crossed  the  brook,  smiled,  and 
opening  the  door  of  the  chariot,  entered  it. 

"  Now,  Katy,  you  may  be  at  rest,"  he  said,  "I  am  very 
well  here,  and  you  shall  have  your  ride." 

The  chariot  then  rolled  on  and  soon  drew  up  before  the 
Hall,  as  did  Captain  Ralph,  behind  whom  Kate  was  sitting 
with,  delighted  countenance. 

Will,  who  had  just  returned  from  school,  came  forth 
and  assisted  the  ladies  from  the  carriage  with  dignified 
courtesy,  and  the  whole  party  entered  the  old  mansion,  Willie 
lingering  behind  to  ask  Kate  who  that  man  with  the  mous 
tache  was  ? 


3Q  Of   WHICH   THE    20MEDY   PROCEEDS. 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

IN  WHICH  THE  COMEDY  PBOCEED8. 

"  I  DO  not  know  how  you  can  say  so,  sir." 

"  Is  it  not  true,  Madam  Henrietta  ?  Come  now,  say,  is  it 
not?' 

"  No,  sir ;  why  should  '  ladies  in  general  prefer  a  fop  to  any 
other  species  of  admirer  ?  '  You  perceive,  sir,  that  I  repeat 
your  own  words." 

"  Yes ;  and  I  maintain  that  they  are  dooms  correct.  I 
set  up  my  rest  upon  that  proposition,  and  defend  it  as  be^ 
comes  a  soldier,  and  one  long  cognizant  of  the  humors  and 
peculiarities  of  the  divine  sex,"  continued  the  Captain,  gen 
tly  caressing  his  long  black  moustache,  and  bending  forward 
with  great  earnestness  in  his  chair. 

While  the  Captain  and  Henrietta  converse  upon  one  side 
of  the  room,  Mr.  Effingham  sits  languidly  looking  out  of  the 
window  near  Miss  Alethea  upon  the  other :  Kate  and  Will 
are  holding  an  animated  dialogue  by  the  harpsichord ;  and  the 
squire  is  in  the  distance  exchanging  compliments  with  the 
parson  of  the  parish,  who  made  his  appearance  at  the  Hall 
soon  after  the  entrance  of  the  party.  Mr.  Christian  is  a  quiet, 
benevolent-looking  gentleman  of  about  forty,  with  an  open, 
pleasant  eye,  a  mild  manner  :  and  he  wears  the  clerical  suit 
of  black,  and  white  neckcloth.  Dark  colored  leggings  reach 
to  his  knees,  and  in  his  hand  he  carries  the  shovel  hat  worn 
by  the  clergy. 

And  now  that  the  reader  has  these  different  groups  be 
fore  him,  in  the  old  portrait-decorated,  carved-wainscoted 
drawing-room,  let  us  return  for  a  brief  space  to  Miss  Henri 
etta  Lee  and  her  admirer : — for  by  this  time  Captain  Ralph 
has  come  to  assume  that  position,  having  fought  the  battle  of 
Glatz  for  her  own  and  Mrs.  Lee's  amusement,  and  having  found 
in  Miss  Henrietta — whether  from  interest  or  a  disposition  to 
redeem  the  character  of  her  sex — an  attentive  and  silent  lis 
tener.  This  circumstance  has  pleased  the  Captain,  and  sure 
of  his  auditor,  he  now  branches  forth  into  a  discussion  of  the 
interesting  peculiarities  of  her  sex. 

"  Nothing  could  be  truer  than  the  proposition  I  have  had 


IN   WHICH   THE   COM  Kin'    PROCEEDS.  8? 

the  hanor  to  lay  down,  my  dear  Ma'm'selle  Henrietta,"  ha 
continues,  "  let  me  hear  you  deny  that  the  adorable  sex — 
the  French  term,  that — is  not  better  pleased  with  the  gay 
fops  who  adorn  this  wicked  world,  than  with  the  more  un 
pretending  individuals  of  the  masculine  gender.  There  is 
no  earthly  doubt  of  the  fact,  and  I  feel  convinced  that  a  lady 
of  your  discrimination,  upon  a  calm  view  of  the  facts  of  the 
matter,  will  not  venture  to  deny  the  truth  of  the  aforesaid 
proposition." 

"  I  do  deny  it,"  says  Henrietta,  with  a  toss  of  her  bril 
liant  head,  which  diffused  a  light  cloud  of  perfumed  powder 
through  th°.  air ;  "  I  deny  it  wholly,  sir  !  " 

"  For  the  sake  of  argument,  doubtless,"  replies  the  Cap 
tain  coolly,  and  exhibiting  very  little  emotion  at  the  lady's 
manner. 

"  I  never  argue,  sir  !  "  said  Henrietta. 

"  Yes,  yes  :  logic  is  not  the  failing  of  your  admirable 
sex,  madam." 

"  Indeed,  sir  !  " 

"  Verily,  as  our  chaplain  used  to  say.  But  come,  let  me 
say  a  word  on  this  subject :  you  know  how  much  we  mascu 
line  animals  love  to  hear  ourselves  talk — morbleu !  almost 
as  much  as  the  ladies  :  though  not  quite." 

Henrietta  preserves  a  disdainful  silence  : — but  her  man 
ner  is  not  so  cold.  She  begins  to  regard  Captain  Waters  as 
an  amusing  as  well  as  audacious  gentleman. 

"Instead  of  combating  the  proposition,  I  will  explain 
the  reason  thereof,"  says  the  soldier,  laughing.  "  And  pray 
what  is  a  fop  ?  Why  a  gentleman  that  wears  drop  curls, 
carries  a  muff  of  leopard  skin,  pardy  !  and  ambles  elegantly 
on  his  high-heeled  shoes  through  the  minuet,  or  other  agree 
able  divertisement.  His  hands  are  as  soft  as  a  woman's,  and 
are  cove-ed  with  rings  :  his  cheeks  are  delicately  vermilion 
ed  with  the  new  French  thing  called  rouge,  which  being 
translated  is,  as  you  are  probably  aware,  red ; — his  lace  is 
redolent  of  perfume,  and  his  sword  is  an  inch  or  something 
of  that  sort  in  length,  and  covered  with  knots  of  ribbon. 
He  takes  snuff :  he  minces  his  words  :  he  is  exquisite  : — • 
behold  the  picture  of  an  elegant  gentleman — called  by  some 
a  fop,  by  others  a  dandy." 

*'  Hum  1 "  says  Henrietta. 


88  IN   WHICH   THE    COMEDY   PROCEEDS. 

"  Now  what  comparison  can  there  be,  my  dearest  Miss 
Lee,  between  one  of  these  ncble  seigneurs  all  glittering  with 
embroidery  and  covered  with  perfume,  and  an  ordinary  fellow 
^a  man  of  the  law,  a  planter,  or  a  soldier  ?  Their  hands  are 
respectably  large  : — their  garments  are  plain — their  swords 
yery  lengthy  and  fit  for  honest  blows — they  are  guiltless  of 
perfume,  and  never  mince  their  words  or  amble.  They  are 
much  more  apt  to  whip  you  out  a  pardy  !  or  rnorbleu !  and 
their  manner  of  walking  is  decidedly  of  the  stride  description. 
Behold  all.  See  here  the  difference  !  at  my  French  idiom 
again  you  perceive." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well  now,  can  any  thing  be  more  natural,  more  reason 
able  than  the  preference  your  sex  have  for  the  former  class, 
madam  ?  The  elegant  gentleman  fascinates  you  with  his 
drop  curls  and  lovely  red  cheeks  :  his  muff  is  ready  for  your 
little  hands,  and  should  they  encounter  his  own  there,  they 
are  soft  and  white : — you  admire  his  grace  in  the  ambling 
minuet :  you  are  fond  of  perfumes  such  as  he  uses,  and  his 
nice  little  ribbon-decorated  sword  does  not  frighten  your 
feminine  hearts.  How  could  you  ever  look  at  a  brown 
face,  a  stalwart  hand,  a  plain  cavalier,  after  this  enchanting 
picture  ?  Impossible  !  " 

And  the  Captain  twirls  his  moustache  with  a  delicious 
expression  of  self-appreciation. 

"  I  suppose  you  mean,"  says  Henrietta,  satirically,  "  that 
ladies  judge  wholly  by  the  exterior,  and  do  not  like  you 
sir." 

"  Me  ?  not  like  me  ?     No,  no,  I  am  an  exception  1 " 

"  An  exception,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes  indeed !  " 

"Pray,  how?" 

"  I  unite,  mj  dear  madam,  in  my  own  person,  the  graces 
of  both  classes." 

"  Sir  !  "  says  Henrietta,  completely  astonished  at  this 
climax  of  audacious  conceit. 

"  I  know  it  is  in  bad  taste  to  say  it,"  replies  the  Captain, 
liberally  and  gracefully ;  "  but  I  am  anxious  to  disabuse 
your  mind  of  the  impression  that  in  this  matter  I  am  actu 
ated  by  any  feeling  beyond  a  philosophical  interest  in  th<? 
Question,  calmly  considered.  No,  no,  I  have  never  had 


IN   WHICH    THE    COMEDY    PROCEEDS.  &} 

the  misfortune  to  be  defeated  in  a  fair  fight  by  any  man 
living." 

"  Then  the  ladies  every  where  have  admired  you,  am  I  to 
understand,  sir  ?  "  says  Henrietta,  with  her  satirical  curl  of 
the  lip. 

"  Well  now — really — you  embarrass  me  extremely  !"  re 
plies  her  cavalier,  affecting  an  innocent  and  confused  expres 
sion.  "  Morbleu !  I  have  no  right  to  reply  to  that  ques 
tion." 

And  the  Captain  looks  mysterious. 

Really  the  vainest  creature  I  have  ever  met  with— 
odiously  vain  i — is  Henrietta's  inward  comment. 

"  Ah,  you  think  me  very  vain  !  "  says  the  Captain. 

Henrietta  starts  :  this  acuteness  of  the  soldier  is  begin 
ning  to  surprise  and  annoy  her. 

The  Captain  observes  the  movement  she  makes. 

"  Come  now  :  confess  I  am  insupportably  vain  ! "  he 
says  ;  "  and  quarrel  with  me  for  answering  your  own  ques 
tion.  By  heaven !  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  guilty  of  some 
thing  horrible — the  bare  idea  of  which  causes  my  hair  to 
stand  on  end  !  " 

And  the  Captain  assumes  an  expression  of  such  terror 
that  Henrietta's  sense  of  the  comic  overcomes  her,  and  she 
laughs  in  spite  of  herself.  Conscious  however  that  this  will 
flatter  the  soldier,  she  assumes  again  her  habitual  expres 
sion  of  satirical  indifference,  and  says  : 

"  Well,  sir,  having  proved,  to  your  own  satisfaction  at 
least,  that  our  sex  prefer  fops  to  rational  men ;  pray  now 
proceed  to  inform  me  why  I  especially  prefer  them.  You 
observe,  sir,  that  I  use  your  own  words  again." 

The  Captain  sees  that  he  has  advanced  one  step :  he  is 
called  upon  to  speak. 

"  Why  you  prefer  them  ?"  he  asked,  desirous  of  gaining 
time. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

'  You  wish  to  know,  my  dear  madam,  why  I  ventured  to 
say  that  you  were  likely  to  appreciate  this  class  very  highly 
— the  reason — " 

"  Yes,  sir :  I  believe  I  speak  plainly." 

"  Very  plainly,  morbleu  !  and  with  the  most  charming 
voice  1 " 


90  IN   WHICH   THE    COMEDY   PROCEEI8. 

This  evasion  of  fta  point  piques  Henrietta's  curiosity 
and  annoys  her  at  the  same  time. 

"  You  seem  to  wish  to  dismiss  the  subject,  sir,"  she 
says. 

"  Dismiss  the  subject  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ! "  replies  the  young  girl,  with  a  satirical  flash 
of  her  proud  brilliant  eye,  "  you  are  not  fond  of  logic,  it 
seems,  though  your  sex,  you  say,  monopolize  it  to  the  exclu 
sion  of  my  own." 

An  idea  strikes  the  Captain,  and  his  face  beams ;  all  at 
once  he  finds  himself  extricated  from  his  dilemma. 

"  I  do  not  reply  to  your  insinuation,  my  dear  Miss  Lee," 
he  says,  "  it  would  take  up  time.  I  proceed  to  tell  you 
why  I  think  you,  of  all  others,  would  prefer  these  soft,  amia 
ble,  delightfully  tranquil,  word-mincing  gentlemen ;  and  I 
think  that  if  you  would  cast  your  eye  upon  that  mirror  yon 
der,  you  would  require  nothing  more." 

"  How,  sir  ?  "  says  Henrietta,  gazing  at  her  brilliant 
image  in  the  mirror. 

"  Why,  it  would  show  you  a  pair  of  bright  flashing  eyes 
lips  full  of  animation  and  brilliancy, — in  a  word>  you  would 
see  a  yeung  lady  full  of  fire  and  spirR.  See  here,  morbleu  1 
the  whole  matter  in  a  nutshell." 

Henrietta's  lip  curls. 

"  Really  you  must  aspire  to  rival  the  Sphinx,  sir,"  she 
says. 

"  I,  madam  ?  Oh,  no  !  I  have  no  desire  to  match  my 
self  against  that  wonder  of  antiquity  ;  and  I  think  my  point 
quite  plain." 

"  How  plain,  sir  1  " 

*  You  see  brilliant  eyes  there ;  at  least  bright  eyes :  do 
you  not  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir  ?  " 

"  Animated  lips  ?  " 

"  Proceed,  sir." 

"  Life,  quickness,  animation  ?  " 

«  Well,  what  next  ?" 

"  Nothing,  my  dear  madam,  all  is  explained.  You  pre 
fer  the  aforesaid  quiet,  amiable,  unoffending  fops,  because 
they  are  so  completely  contrasted  with  yourself.  Like  seeki 
unlike — you  know  the  proverb." 


IN    WHICH    THE    COMEDY    PROCEEDS.  9 1 

"  Then,  sir,  I  ain  not  'quiet' — ' 

The  Captain  finds  that  his  anxiety  to  escape  from  one 
dilemma  has  plunged  him  into  another,  and  he  utters  a  so 
norous  '  hum  ! ' 

"  Nor  amiable—  ?  " 

"  Really,  madam — " 

"  Nor  unoffending  ?  " 

"  What  an  unfortunate  man  I  am,"  says  the  Captain,  with 
well-counterfeited  contrition.  "  I  do  not  understand  th 
English  tongue,  owing  to  my  long  sojourn  in  foreign  lands. 
I  foresee,  Ma'm'selle,  that  we  shall  not  get  on  in  English. 
High  Dutch,  Prussian  or  the  French,  for  heaven's  sake,  or  I 
am  ruined,  totally,  completely — ayez  pitie  !  " 

Henrietta  again  feels  a  violent  desire  to  laugh,  so  pro 
found  is  the  Captain's  chagrin — or  rather  the  affectation  of 
chagrin.  Feeling  unwilling  to  encourage  him,  however,  she 
plays  with  a  diamond  necklace  round  her  neck,  and  tugs  at 
it  indifferently. 

"  Take  care  I  "  says  the  Captain,  "  I  observe  a  portion 
of  your  necklace  loose,  and — " 

The  caution  comes  too  late :  the  unfortunate  necklace 
parts  asunder  and  drops  upon  the  carpet. 

The  Captain  picks  it  up  gallantly. 

"  There,  now  I  "  says  Henrietta,  with  an  expression  of 
annoyance,  "  you  have  made  me  break  my  necklace,  sir  1 " 

"  /,  my  dear  madam  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir:  if  I  had  not—" 

But  finding  the  explanation  likely  to  turn  out  somewhat 
embarrassing,  she  pauses. 

"  Your  explanation  is  perfectly  satisfactory,"  says  the 
soldier,  laughing. 

"  What  explanation,  sir  ?  "  says  Henrietta,  more  piqued 
than  she  cares  to  show. 

"  Why,  the  explanation  you  gave  of  my  agency  in  the 
destruction  of  the  unfortunate  necklace.' 

Henrietta  tosses' her  head. 

"  I  gave  none,  sir,"  she  said 

"  Really,  madam — " 

"  Well,  sir  ?  » 

"  Permit  me  to  observe,  that  you  undoubtedly  did  ex 
plain  " 


92  IN    WHICH    THE    COMEDY    PROCEEDS. 

"  I  was  not  conscious  of  it,  sir. 

"  Perhaps  not :  but  I  heard  it ;  and  I  am  so  profoundly 
convinced  of  my  criminality  by  the  afcresaid  explanation, 
that  I  hold  myself  the  real  author  of  tLis  unhappy  circum 
stance."  -v 

"  Well,  sir,  as  you  please." 

But  this  does  not  satisfy  the  Captain,  who  with  the  art 
of  a  consummate  soldier  has  already  graven  out  the  plan  of 
his  campaign." 

"  Am  I  not  guilty  ?  "  he  persists. 

"  If  you  choose,  sir." 

"  Yes,  or  no  ?  " 

"  Yes,  then,  sir." 

The  Captain  exhibits  great  delight  at  this  avowal,  and 
with  his  white  teeth  shining  merrily  under  his  black  mous 
tache,  returns  the  broken  necklace  to  its  owner,  and  contin 
ues  conversing  with  the  utmost  sang-froid  and  good  humor; 
as  if  indeed  he  had  just  rendered  a  service,  instead  of  caus 
ing  an  annoying  accident. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  other  groups,  which  are  as  busily 
engaged  in  conversing  as  the  Captain  and  his  friend — or 
enemy — Miss  Henrietta. 

"  It  may  surprise  you,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Christian  to  the 
squire,  in  his  mild  quiet  voice,  "  but  I  do  not  consider  the 
present  Church  system  so  perfect  as  you  seem  to,  though  I 
am  a  member  of  that  system.  I  think  that  there  are  many 
and  great  abuses  in  it ;  and  I  can  understand  how  these 
abuses  have  attracted  so  much  attention  from  the  new  re 
formers  of  the  age." 

"  We  have  too  many  reformers,  parson,"  says  the  bluff 
squire ;  "  they'll  reform  and  reform,  until  no  form  is  left  in 
any  thing." 

"  I  thought,  sir,  that  the  legislation  of  parliament  upon 
matters  connected  with  this  colonj  found  in  you  a  deter 
mined  enemy.  I  am,  as  you  know,  a  stranger  here,  but 
Btill— " 

"  They  do,  sir !  "  interrupted  the  squire,  "  I  am  opposed 
to  the  death  to  the  whole  policy  of  the  present  ministry — 
meddling  with  our  affairs  here,  and  presuming  to  speak  of  a 
Stamp  duty !  It  is  abominable  !  But  that  does  not  blind 


'     IN    WHICH    THE    COMEDY    PROCEEDS.  93 

me  so  far  as  to  make  me  hate  the  good  old  established 
Church." 

"  I  would  be  much  grieved  to  hear  that  you  hated  it, 
sir,"  says  Mr.  Christian  mildly,  "  but  we  may  cherish  a  sys 
tem  and  yet  not  be  blind  to  its  abuses." 

"  What  abuses  under  heaven  are  there  in  our  Church, 
sir  ? — the  good  old  system  under  which  my  forefathers  lived 
and  died  ?  It  is  a  queer  question  to  ask  you,  sir — 'but  you 
have  thrown  down  the  gauntlet  1 " 

Mr.  Christian  smiles. 

"  It  is  not  customary  for  persons  of  my  profession,  Mr 
Effingham,  to  throw  down  defiances.  Believe  me,  such  was 
not  my  intention :  I  meant  only  to  express,  in  a  Christian 
and  moderate  spirit,  my  fears  of  the  operation  of  our  present 
system.  You  ask  what  are  the  abuses  in  it :  I  think  I  can 
reply  in  very  few  words.  The  presentation  to  parishes,  in 
the  first  place,  is  very  unjust  in  its  operation — that  privilege 
being  often  granted  to  noblemen  and  gentlemen  who  do  not 
care  how  parishes  are  governed.  I  have  known  instances, 
sir,  where  persons  were  named  for  this  sacred  duty — and 
who  were  called  to  it,  in  truth  too,  sir — persons,  I  say,  whose 
lives  had  been  more  scandalous  than  I  can  describe,  and  who 
carried  the  vices  of  this  world  into  the  bosom  of  the  holy 
Church." 

"  Well,  sir — there  is  something  in  that,  and  I  have  heard 
that  the  worthy  who  preceded  you,  parson,  was  no  better 
than  he  should  be.  I'm  glad  we  are  rid  of  him,  and  I  send 
Will  to  his  school  from  pure  charity." 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  make  allusion  to  any  one,  sir — God 
forbid:  that  is  not  my  place." 

"  A  good  exchange !  I'll  say  that  much,  parson,"  sayfc 
the  honest  squire,  "  but  the  other  abuses  ?" 

"  I  will  mention  but  one,  sir  :  and  perhaps  what  I  say 
may  surprise  you.  I  think  the  union  of  Church  and  State 
impolitic." 

"  The  union  of  Church  and  State  impolitic  ! — impolitic  1 " 

"  Wrong,  then,  sir,"  Mr.  Christian  replies  mildly  to 
these  impassioned  words,  "  I  think  it  a  great  injustice." 

"  How,  in  heaven's  name  ?  " 

"  Thus,  sir.  The  sentiment  of  religion  is  so  high  and 
pure,  depends  so  completely  upon  the  untrammelled  operation 


94  IN   WHICH   THE    COMEDY   PROCEEDS.    ' 

of  the  human  heart,  that  any  legislation  which  tends  to  cir 
cumscribe  and  reduce  it  to  rule  must  eternally  fail,  ai  d  ope* 
rate  wofully  for  the  great  interest  of  mankind.  This  senti 
ment,  sir,  must  he  permitted  to  be  a  law  unto  itself;  nothing 
can  direct  it ;  nothing  should  interfere  with  it.  Especially 
and  terribly  unjust  are  those  laws  which  say  to  the  followei 
of  Christ, '  you  shall  not  worship  at  any  shrine  but  one,  and 
that  shrine  you  must  support.'  You  perceive,  sir,  that  I  anr 
as  far  advanced  in  my  refona  ideas  as  the  most  zealous  new 
light,  as  I  believe  those  who  dissent  from  our  Church  call 
themselves.  I  cannot  help  myself,  I  cannot  say  what  I  do 
not  think,  and,  after  much  prayer  to  God  to  enlighten  me, 
and  give  me  just  and  true  understanding,  I  am  compelled 
to  say  that  I  believe  religious  toleration  the  first  and  most 
important  duty  of  a  state." 

Mr.  Christian  ceases  speaking,  and  gazes  thoughtfully 
and  earnestly  into  the  lawn.  The  squire  clears  his  throat, 
marshals  his  logic,  and  with  a  preparatory  "  hem !"  com 
mences  his  refutation  of  the  parson's  views.  Let  us,  how 
ever,  leave  the  worthy  gentlemen,  and  pass  on  to  the  harpsi 
chord,  not  pausing  to  hear  Miss  Alethea  inform  Mr.  Effing 
ham  that  Clare  had  a  headache,  and  could  not  come,  or  tc 
listen  to  her  companion's  weary  and  languid  discourse.  Le 
us  pass  on,  and  hear  what  Will  and  Kate  are  saying  to  each 
other. 

Comedy  goes  out  of  its  proper  field  when  it  deals  with 
fiery  passions,  or  grand  personages  or  events ;  but,  if  it  can 
not  usurp  the  function  of  tragedy,  it  has  this  to  recommend 
it,  that  it  may  safely  deal  with  every  species  of  character,  of 
every  class  and  every  age ;  and  when  in  this  pursuit  it  finds 
a  peculiarity,  it  may  paint  it  and  vindicate  itself,  however 
humble  and  apparently  insignificant  the  personage  or  the 
trait  may  be.  The  reader  must  have  been  convinced,  before 
this,  that  the  second  portion  of  our  history  is  destined  to 
deal  with  comedy  more  than  the  former  portion,  though  that 
boasted  a  company  of  comedians, — and  in  this  he  has  not 
been  mistaken. 

Will  and  Kate  are  persons  of  the  comedy,  and  we  must 
not  neglect  them  now  or  at  any  future  time. 

They  are  holding  an  animated  conversation,  as  we  have 
paid,  by  tie  harpsichord,  and  Will  seems  to  be  in  posses- 


IN    WHICH    THE    COMEDY    PROCEEDS.  99 

eion  of  something  which  Kate  desires  to  see  very  much.— 
She  leans  forward  on  the  cricket  she  occupies,  and  with  her 
bright  eyes  fixed  upon  Master  Will,  is  plainly  desirous  that  he 
shall  unroll  something  which  he  holds  in  his  hand.  This 
gomething  is  in  the  shape  of  a  roll  of  parchment,  and  Will 
hesitates,  and  hesitating,  rubs  the  side  of  his  nose  with  the 
scroll. 

"  Now  Willie,"  says  Kate,  "  I  think  you  might  show  it  to 
me." 

Will  rubs  the  other  side  of  his  nose. 

"  What  ia  it  ?  "  continues  Kate ;  "  you  say  it  is  nice,  and 
pretty,  and  will  make  me  happy — my  goodness  1  what  is 
it?" 

Will  assumes  a  meditative  attitude,  and  smooths  that 
portion  of  his  face  upon  which  he  hopes  hereafter  to  have 
whiskers. 

"  Guess,  Kate." 

"  I  can't." 

"  Well,  try." 

"  Is  it  poetry  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  A  picture  ?  » 

Will  hesitates,  and  then  says  : 

"  No  :  not  exactly." 

"  Let's  see,"  says  Kate,  "  what  can  it  be  ?  Yoct  said  it 
was  '  nice  '  and  '  pretty,'  and  I  would  like  it — didn't  you?  * 

Will,  finding  his  description  cast  in  his  teeth,  and  appa 
rently  dubious  whether  it  is  wholly  correct,  satisfies  himself 
with  a  doubtful  nod. 

"-  Is  it  a  nosegay  ? — but  I  see  it  isn't,"  says  Kate,  in 
despair. 

"  No,  it  is  not,"  Will  replies. 

"  What  is  it  ?  0,  my  goodness  gracious  1  what  can  it 
be  ?  "  says  Kate,  laughing  and  perplexed. 

Willie  looks  a  little  sheepish. 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  show  it  to  you,"  he  says,  stuffing  the 
roll  in  his  breast. 

"  £hd  not  tell  me  ?  * 

"  I  think  not. 

"  Now,  Willie  1 " 

Will  is  obdurate. 


96  IN    WHICH   THE    COMEDY    PROCEEDS. 

"  O,  Willie,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Really,  Kate,  you  are  very  curious." 

"  Women  always  are,  you  know — always.     Now  Will ! ' 

And  Kate  laughs  merrily,  and  attempts  to  gain  possession 
of  the  scroll. 

"  What  will  you  give  me  to  show  it  to  you  ?  " 

"Any  thing." 

"  Hold  up  your  mouth  !  " 

And  Will,  with  the  gravity  of  a  judge,  fixes  his  lips  for 
a  kiss. 

"  I  won't,"  says  Kate. 

"  Not  kiss  me  !  "  cries  Will,  in  despair :  and  shaking  his 
head  he  adds,  mournfully,  "  then  I  needn't  have  got  Sam 
Baskerville  to  write  this." 

"  Oh,  it's  writing,"  says  Kate,  clapping  her  hands,   "  now 
I  know." 

Willie  remains  silent. 

"  It's  a  love  letter,  please  let  me  see  it,"  adds  his  lady  love. 

"  You  will  not  so  much  as  give  me  one  kiss,"  says  Willie, 
showing  a  strong  disposition  to  put  his  knuckle  in  his  eye, 
and  prize  out  a  tear. 

"  Ladies  of  my  age  must  preserve  the  dignity  of  their 
position,"  Kate  says,  with  delightful  gravity. 

"  Not  kiss  me  !  "  repeats  Willie,  with  a  look  to  which  his 
former  piteous  glance  was  jolly  merriment ;  "  then  I  needn't 
have  got  Bill  Lane  and  Ellen  Fellows  to  make  the  Roman 
letters,  and  paint  the  wreath  of  flowers,  and  hearts,  and 
arrow." 

And  Will  looks  the  picture  of  patience  on  a  monument 
smiling  at  grief,  or  another  deeply  chagrined  figure,  which 
the  reader  may  imagine. 

Kate  bursts  out  laughing : 

"  Oh  there's  a  wreath  of  flowers,  and  a  heart — two  hearts 
you  said — and  an  arrow,  may  be  two  arrows — " 

"  Only  one,"  murmurs  Will,  in  a  heart-broken  tone,  and 

fazing  piteous-ly  through  the  window,  "  wouldn't  give  me  a 
iss — me !" 

"  Well,  may  be — who  knows — but  I  won't  promise." — 
Kate  says, — "  let  me  see  it  first." 

Will,  with  averted  head  and  nerveless  grip,  resigns  the 
parchment,  and  Kate,  seizing  it,  unrolls  it  quickly,  At  the 


IN    WHICH   THE    COMEDY    PROCHBDS  97 

top  of  the  page  is  painted  a  wreath  of  flowers,  in  the  middle 
of  which  two  deeply  crimson  hearts  are  pierced  by  an  intensely 
silver  arrow.  Above  flutters  a  bow  of  ribbon  and  beneath, 
in  the  most  ornamental  letters  possible,  Kate  reads,  half 
aloud,  the  following : 

"  THIS  INDENTURE,  made  in  the  month  of  March,  of  tho 
year  of  grace  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  ninety-five, 
in  the  Colony  of  Virginia,  Continent  of  North  America, — " 

"  Sam  Baskerville's  father  was  Sheriff,  and  he  knows  all 
about  it,"  says  Willie,  regarding  the  parchment  with  forlorn 
interest. 

"  — between  William  Effingham,  Esq.,"  continues  Kate, 
"  of  Effingham  Hall,  and  Miss  Kate  Effingham,  of  ditto, 
spinster, — " 

"  Me  !"  cries  Kate. 

"  There  !  that's  the  way  it  is,"  says  Will,  with  forlorn 
resignation. 

"  —  Witnesseth,"  continues  Kate,  mastered  by  her  curi 
osity  and  reading  without  stopping,  "  that  for  and  in  con 
sideration  of  his,  the  said  William  Effingham,  Esq's.,  pro 
found  affection  and  unutterable  love,  and  liking  for  her  the 
said  Kate  Effingham,  spinster  as  aforesaid,  he  the  said  Wil 
liam  Effingham,  Esq.,  doth  hereby  endow  the  said  Kate 
Effingham,  spinster  as  aforesaid,  with  all  that  property,  lying 
and  being  in  the  county  of  Gloucester,  and  known  as  the 
Cove,  with  all  and  several,  each  and  every,  singular  and 
plural,  the  fields,  tenements,  messuages,  hereditaments,  ten 
ures,  and  remainder,  to  say  nothing  of  the  reversion  and 
contingent  remainder,  neither  to  mention  the  executory  de 
vise  thereof — and  all  this  property,  he  the  said  William 
Effingham,  Esq.,  gives  to  the  said  Kate  Effingham,  spinster, 
because  his  father  gave  it  to  him  last  Christmas  Only  pro 
vided,  and  on  the  condition  specified,  well  understood  and 
no  mistake,  that  she  the  said  Kate  Effingham,  spinster,  who 
is  one  of  the  nicest  girls  in  the  Colony — " 

'*  I  gave  him  that  part ! "  murmurs  Will. 

Kate  continues  shaking  with  laughter,  and  curiosity. 

"  —  shall  on  the  execution  hereof  according  to  the  style 
and  meaning,  intent  and  signification  of  it,  the  said  inden 
ture—that  she  the  aforesaid  spinster,  shall  agree  to  espouse 


98  IN    WHICH   THE   COMEDY   PROCEEDS. 

in  the  bonds  of  wedlock,  for  richer,  for  poorer,  in  sicklies* 
and  in  health,  him  the  aforesaid  William  Effingham,  Es 
quire." 

"  Oh  !  "  cries  Kate;  but  goes  on. 

"  — And  to  the  better  understanding  of  this  indenture, 
it  is  hereby  stated  that  he  the  said  William  Effingham,  Es 
quire,  has  not  at  this  time,  nor  ever  hath  had  during  any 
previous  time,  whereof  the  memory  of  man  runneth  not  to 
the  contrary,  any  affection,  love,  or  desire  to  enter  into  matri 
monial  engagements  with  Donsy  Smith,  spinster,  who  is  a 
nice  girl,  but  not  equal  to  the  aforesaid  Kate  Effingham, 
spinster.  And  to  the  end  that  all  shall  be  done  in  the  pre 
mises  the  commonwealth's  writ  of  subpoena  shall  issue,  sum 
moning  the  parties  to  this  indenture,  to  affix  their  names  to 
the  same :  and  your  petitioner  will  ever  pray. 

"  Given  under  our  hands  and  seals,  the  day  and  year 
aforesaid. 

"  William  Effingham,  Esq.,  [Seal.] 

[Seal." 

Kate  finishes  the  paper  and  drops  it,  laughing  loud. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at,  Kate  ?  "  says  Will,  mourn 
fully. 

"  It  nearly  took  my  breath  away  !  "  cries  Kate.  "  Oh, 
goodness !  " 

"  Won't  you  sign  it  ? "  pleads  Willie,  "  say,  dearest 
Kate  ?  " 

The  young  lady  observes  for  the  first  time  the  profoundly 
mournful  tone  of  her  admirer,  and  feels  the  tender  senti 
ment  of  pity  invading  her  heart.  She  sighs.  Will  hears 
this  sigh,  and  seizes  her  hand  with  impassioned  expec 
tation. 

"  No — I  don't  think — "  says  Kate,  bending  her  head, 
with  the  air  of  a  lady  overwhelmed  by  confusion. 

"  Now,  Kate — do  sign  !  We'll  have  such  a  delightful 
time  playing  down  at  the  Cove — !  " 

Kate  sees  the  spiendid  vision,  but  endeavors  to  resist. 
She  loves  Will  devotedly  ;  why  not  make  him  happy,  when 
a  flirt  of  the  pen  can  compass  that  end  ? 

Will  throws  upon  her  an  affectionate  glance,  and  endea 
vors  to  put  a  pencil  in  her  hand.  As  he  bends  down,  a  little 
pincushion  falls  from  his  waistcoat  pocket. 


IN    WHICH   THE    COMEDY    PROCEED*.  99 

«  What  is  that  ?  "  says  Kate. 

Willie  looks  the  picture  of  guilt. 

"  A  pincushion  !  "  he  murmurs. 

"  The  one  I  gave  you,  Willie  ?  " 

"  N— o,"  says  Will. 

"  Who  gave  you  this  ?  " 

Will  looks  desperate. 

"  Donsy  !  "  he  murmurs,  in  an  expiring  voice. 

"  And  where  is  mine,  pray  sir  !  "  says  Kate. 

Will  turns  pale,  but  answers  like  a  man — though  a  very 
much  frightened  man  : 

'  I  gave  it  to  Donsy,  for  this ! " 

"  Then  I  won't  marry  you,  Willie  !  "  cries  Kate,  putting 
her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  "  no  !  that  I  won't,  sir  1 " 

"  Oh,  Kate  !  I  didn't  mean—" 

"  I  won't  hear  any  excuses,  sir — I  don't  want  them.  To 
give  my  pincushion  away  !  Oh  !  Willie  !  " 

And  putting  down  the  true-love  indenture,  Kate  turns 
from  her  desperate  admirer  and  pouts  beautifully. 

"  Ah !  petite  Mademoiselle,  you  are  annoyed,"  says  the 
Captain,  "  I  am  sure  that  gallant  little  Monsieur  has  not 
done  it." 

Kate's  face  clears  up,  and  a  smile  like  a  sunbeam  drives 
away  her  mortification. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  Willie,  "  I  am  guilty." 

And  having  made  this  manly  confession,  he  hastily  rolls 
up  the  true-love  indenture,  and  stuffs  it  in  his  pocket.  Then 
he  links  arms  with  the  not  unwilling  Kate,  whose  ill-humor 
has  nearly  vanished,  and  they  run  out  on  the  lawn  to  catch 
the  last  rays  of  twilight,  and  in  child  phrase,  "  make  up." 

We  need  not  return  to  the  groups  whose  conversation  we 
have  listened  to.  Our  history  does  not  require  that  we 
should  listen  to  more : — and  as  far  as  one  party  went,  this 
was  even  rendered  impossible.  Captain  Ralph  rose  to  take 
his  departure.  The  squire  of  course  pressed  him  to  remain 
and  sup,  but  this  the  worthy  soldier  declined.  He  must  be 
at  home  before  the  night  had  set  in.  Would  he  then  honor 
them  by  coming  on  Thursday  next  to  dinner  ?  If  pot 
Bible. 

And  so  with  a  consolatory  assurance  to  Miss  Henrietta, 
that  he  would  visit  her  soon  again,  the  Captain  went  away. 


100          AT  THE  TRAP,  AND  ELSEWHERE.        ^ 

On  the  portico  he  met  and  bade  farewell  to  the  "  little 
Ma'mselle  and  Monsieur ;  "  and  then  the  twilight  swallowed 
Seliin  and  his  rider. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

AT  THE  TRAP,  AND  ELSEWHERE. 

ONE  morning,  a  few  days  after  the  scenes  we  have  just  re 
lated,  Mr.  Effingham  received  a  note  couched  in  the  folibw- 
ing  terms : 

"  MY  DEAR.  CHAMP  : 

"  Come  over  to  '  the  Trap,'  and  dine  and  sleep  with  me. 
Be  sure  to  be  in  trim  to  ride  through  a  cane-brake,  that  is, 
in  buff  and  leather  :  and  ride  Tom — the  large  piebald  :  he's 
a  glorious  animal,  by  George  1 

"  I  count  on  you  to  obey  this,  which  comes  from  your 

Friend  till  death, 

JACK  HAMILTON." 
" '  The  Trap,' — on  a  splendid  morning." 

For  a  moment  Mr.  Effingham  was  determined  not  to  go, 
and  ordered  the  servant  who  brought  the  note  to  be  directed 
to  wait.  The  servant  from  the  Trap  had  departed  however, 
and  Mr.  Effingham  finally  determined  to  embrace  his  friend's 
invitation. 

"  Why  annoy  the  honest  fellow  ?  "  he  said,  "  he  is  one  of 
my  very  best  friends,  and  I  cannot  afford  to  throw  away  such 
— I  have  not  enough.  Now  what  can  he  want  ?  Here  I  am 
languidly  speculating,  and  cannot,  to  save  me,  come  to  any 
conclusion.  It  is  too  late  in  the  season  to  hunt — and  yet  he 
says  I  must  come  in  buff  and  leather.  I  am  to  ride  Tom, 
and  sleep  there.  Decidedly  I  will  give  it  up." 

And  Mr.  Effingham  dismissed  the  subject  from  his  mind, 
returning  it  seemed  to  some  vague  train  of  thought  that  had 
possession  of  his  mind.  Sitting  before  the  slight  fire  of 
crackling  twigs,  with  his  feet  upon  the  old  grotesque  and 
irons,  he  gazed  into  the  coals  : — then  upon  the  old  portrait 
high  upon  the  carved  wainscot — then  through  the  window 
pn  the  breezy  lawn,  covered  with  flowers  which  bowed  their 


AT  THE  TRAP,  AND  ELSEWHERE.          10\ 

beads  as  the  wind  passed  over  them.  The  blustering  wind  of 
March  rang  merrily  round  the  gables,  and  whistled  through 
the  keyhole,  and  rose  and  fell,  and  died  away.  Only  the 
ticking  of  the  huge  clock  in  the  hall  was  heard  in  these 
pauses,  and  footsteps  of  Miss  Alethea,  or  Kate,  or  some  ser 
vant — in  the  apartments  overhead. 

The  thinker  gazed  long  at  the  portraits. 

"  I  believe  in  blood,"  said  Mr.  Effingham,  musingly 
"  The  blood  of  men  is  quick  or  sluggish,  generous  or  mean, 
just  as  that  of  animals  is.  The  race-horse  has  an  ancestry 
of  race-horses — the  common  drudge,  an  ancestry  of  drudges, 
the  offspring  of  tigers  are  fierce,  as  the  lamb  follows  its  dam 
in  meekness — very  trite  and  very  true  ;  every  thing  true  is 
trite.  And  man,  the  supreme  animal,  is  not  an  exception. 
There  now  is  old  Harry  Effingham,  in  his  armor — he  fought 
at  Agincourt,  they  say,  and  did  good  service  with  his  stout 
arm.  And  there  is  the  Chevalier  Huon,  of  Effenghame,  as 
they  call  him,  the  princeps  of  all,  who  married  a  damsel  of 
the  accursed  race  of  Mahound,  the  family  chronicle  says,  in 
the  Crusades — a  wild  fellow,  I  do  not  doubt,  and  perhaps  I 
have  now,  in  this  good  year  of  grace,  1765,  something  of  Sir 
Huon  in  me.  Possibly ;  I  came  very  near  wedding  one  who 
— well,  well ;  I  will  not  rake  in  those  cold  ashes.  What 
boots  it  ?  The  fire  is  burnt  out,  it  is  true ;  but  why  soil  my 
fingers  ?  I  think  I  have  suffered  enough.  If  not  pleasure, 
give  me  the  next  thing,  apathy,  which  I  think  I  have." 

A  servant  entered,  to  replenish  the  fire. 

"  Ned,  have  the  piebald,  Tom,  saddled,  and  brought 
round,"  said  Mr.  Emngham, 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  servant  retired,  and  Mr.  EfEngham  fell  into  another 
fit  of  thought,  from  which  he  was  roused  by  the  intelligence 
that  his  horse  was  ready. 

"  I  suppose  I  may  be  allowed  to  disregard  the  caution 
about  dress,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Bring  my  boots  and 
spurs,"  he  added,  to  the  servant. 

He  was  soon  on  his  way,  and  before  long,  reached  the 
Trap.  This  abode  of  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton  was  a  very  hand 
some  specimen  of  the  old  hipped  roof  mansions  which  crown 
so  many  hills  in  Virginia,  and  one  might  have  seen  at  a 
glance  that  none  but  a  bachelor  resided  there.  The  front 


102          AT  THE  TRAP,  AND  ELSEWHERE. 

door  was  permanently  open,  one  hinge  having  given  way,  and 
the  few  abortive  efforts  to  open  and  close  it,  having  resulted 
in  nothing  more  than  a  semi-circular  mark  upon  the  floor, 
The  door  had  been  in  this  condition  just  one  year,  and  re 
mained  unchanged  until — but  we  anticipate.  Upon  the 
small  porch  half-a-dozen  dogs  were  dozing,  and  snapping  at 
the  flies ;  and  in  the  yard  a  score  of  hounds  bayed,  gam 
bolled,  basked  in  the  sun.  or  dragged  their  blocks. 

An  old  white-haired  negro  came,  with  the  well-bred  cour 
tesy  of  the  Virginia  family  servant,  to  take  Mr.  Effiughanrs 
horse,  and  he  entered. 

Jack  Hamilton  came  forth  to  greet  him,  and  then  they 
entered  the  dining-room,  or  rather  the  apartment  used  for 
that  purpose  when  Mr.  Hamilton  was  alone,  which  was  very 
seldom.  Here  Mr.  Effingham  found  half-a-dozen  gentlemen 
from  the  neighborhood,  all  his  acquaintances.  They  re 
ceived  him  with  the  cordial  frankness  of  boon  companions, 
and  after  a  few  questions  about  his  travels,  commenced  again 
conversing,  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  on  hunting,  plantation 
matters,  politics — especially  upon  politics.  Did  half-a-dozen 
Virginians  ever  remain  together  half  an  hour,  without  talk 
ing  politics  ?  We  have  never  been  present  on  such  an  oc 
casion. 

Dinner,  and  copious  libations — perhaps  we  might  say  co 
pious  libations  and  dinner  also — succeeded.  Afterwards  a 
cloud  of  smoke,  from  as  many  tobacco  pipes  as  there  were 
men,  Mr.  Effingham  excepted,  and  then  politics  more  fero 
ciously  than  ever.  Navigation  laws — yes,  sir,  infamous,  un 
constitutional — dare  to  pass  that  stamp  act  they  talk  of — 
try  it — the  continent  will  be  in  a  blaze — pshaw  ! — yes  sir ! 
in  a  blaze — puff!  puff! — I  tell  you,  sir — no,  sir — yes,  sir — 
I  like  the  governor — he  don't  suit  the  times — here  Oscar  ! 
Is  this  Black's  pup,  Jack  ?  But  we  refrain  even  from  re 
porting  stenographically  this  chaos  of  voices,  the  new  Ba 
bel  of  confused  tongues. 

The  afternoon  passed,  and  night  came,  and  then  a  sub 
stantial  supper,  preceded  by  a  walk  out  to  look  at  the  horses, 
the  dogs,  the  tobacco,  the  stock,  every  thing.  Then  all  go  to 
the  door  to  greet  a  stalwart  gentleman,  approaching  on  a 
fine  roan ;  and  Captain  Ralph  greets  his  friends  with  a  mul 
tiplicity  of  morbleus  I  and  they  all  sit  down  to  supper. 


AT    THE    TIIAP,    AND    ELSEWHERE.  103 

After  supper,  cards,  and  wine,  and  tobacco  smoke.  Spa- 
dille  reigns  supreme,  and  the  Captain  loses  a  pile  of  gold, 
spite  of  his  most  desperate  efforts,  a  circumstance  which 
causes  him  to  explode  a  whole  magazine  of  gunpowder-like 
morbleus  !  and  curse  the  stars,  which  are  made  responsible 
for  the  ills  that  happen  upon  earth,  much  too  often. 

Mr.  Effingham  has  long  since  heard  that  the  object  of 
the  gathering  is  nothing  less  than  a  real  bonaf.de  fox-hunt, 
spite  of  the  lateness  of  the  season,  and  the  smile  which  has 
greeted  this  transparent  device  of  the  worthy  Jack  Hamil 
ton,  has  yielded  to  apathy  again.  Mr.  Effingham  will  ride 
after  the  hounds — it  is  not  worse  than  idleness. 

Cards  and  dice  lose  their  charm  at  last,  pipes  emit  only 
acrid  smoke,  claret,  and  the  best  Jamaica,  only  make  the 
head  muddier,  even  politics  has  died  a  natural  death,  and  the 
revellers  sleep. 

But  before  the  day  has  reddened  in  the  east,  they  are 
flying  after  the  hounds,  who  have  struck  a  warm  trail,  and 
the  far  distance  swallows  them,  the  yelping  of  the  dogs  dies 
away,  the  Trap  has  caught  silence,  and  holds  it  tight. 

Mr.  Effingham  rides  more  madly  than  them  all.  He  be 
gins  to  think  that  Mr.  Hamilton  is  not  so  contemptible  a 
physician  as  he  thought  him,  for  his  cheek  is  full  of  blood, 
which  was  before  so  pale;  his  eyes  are  brilliant;  his  breast 
feels  no  longer  as  though  some  heavy  load  oppressed  it — he 
is  conscious  of  the  effect  which  the  body  exerts  upon  the 
mind.  Mr.  Effingham's  habit  was  to  sleep  late  in  the  morn 
ing  ;  here  he  was  scouring  the  cold,  fresh,  shivering,  dewy 
fields,  before  sunrise,  following  the  music  of  the  dogs,  and 
whirling  over  fences,  ditches,  and  hollows.  One  or  two  of 
the  hunters  stumbled,  and  once  a  rider  was  rolled  in  a  ditch. 
Mr.  Effingham  positively  found  himself  laughing. 

They  rode  all  the  morning ;  they  had  started  one  of 
those  old  gray  foxes,  who  take  pleasure  in  running  all  day, 
and  sleep  all  the  sounder  after  their  hen-roost  supper,  for  the 
exercise.  By  noon  Reynard  had  disappeared — sunk  into  the 
earth — vanished ;  the  dogs  were  at  fault,  and  after  two  hours 
search  for  the  provoking  animal's  traces,  the  hmrt  was  aban 
doned. 

Mr.  Effingham,  Captain  Ralph,  and  Jack  Hamilton,  took 
their  way  back  together ;  calculating  the  distance  they  had 


104          AT  THE  TRAP,  AND  ELSEWHERE. 

ridden  between  twenty  and  thirty  miles,  perhaps  more.  Mr. 
Effingham  was  not  at  all  weary,  and  said  he  never  felt 
better. 

They  passed  Mr.  Lee's  about  noon,  and  the  old  gentle 
man  insisted  on  their  going  in  to  dinner.  To  this,  Mr.  Ham 
ilton  and  the  Captain  consented  at  once,  but  Mr.  Effingham 
at  first  demurred. 

"  You  will  offend  Mr.  Lee,  Champ,  my  boy,"  said  Ham 
ilton,  in  a  low  tone. 

Mr.  Effingham  gave  his  friend  a  strange  look,  sighed  lan 
guidly,  and  entered  with  them. 

How  it  was,  Mr.  Effingham  did  not  know,  but  Jack 
Hamilton  persuaded  him  to  stay,  and  return  with  him,  and 
whenever  he  intimated  to  his  friend  a  desire  to  go,  the  inti 
mation  was  received  with  a  look  which  seemed  to  say,  "  Don't 
hurry,  my  dear  fellow  ;  just  let  me  finish  this  anecdote  to 
Miss  Clare,  and  I'm  with  you;"  or,  "  Let  us  hear  Miss  Hen 
rietta  finish  that  rattling  song  which  the  Captain  has  worried 
her  into  singing;"  or,  "Just  let  me  refute  these  ideas  of  Mr. 
Lee,  on  the  mode  of  curing  tobacco."  And  so  evening  drew 
on,  and  Mr.  Effingham,  to  his  own  astonishment,  did  not  feel 
very  unhappy. 

They  were  all  gathered  now  around  the  harpsichord, 
whereat  sat  Henrietta,  dazzlingly  beautiful,  and  striking  in 
differently  all  her  visitors,  with  her  satirical  speeches,  and 
proud,  laughing  eyes. 

The  Captain  listened  with  delight,  or  an  excellent  affecta 
tion,  to 

"  In  the  golden  days  of  good  Queen  Bess," 

and  declared  that  he  had  never  heard  any  thing  more  beau 
tiful,  except  the  songs  of  the  French  soldiers  on  the  night 
preceding  the  battle  of  Mindon.  This  observation  caused 
Miss  Henrietta  to  say,  that  perhaps  Captain  Waters  pre 
ferred  male  to  female  voices.  To  which  satirical  observa 
tion,  the  Captain,  with  great  candor,  and  cordial  frankness, 
replied  that  he  did.  Miss  Henrietta  thereupon  requested  a 
song  from  some  gentleman  present,  but  failing  in  her  desire, 
retired  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  where  Captain 
Ralph  permitted  her  to  remain,  very  cheerfully. 

Finding  this  position  somewhat  dull,  Miss  Henrietta  re- 


AT   THE   TRAP,   AND    ELSEWHERE.  105 

turned  by  degrees,  from  the  window  to  the  sofa,  from  the 
sofa  to  the  centre-table,  from  the  table  to  the  harpsichord 
again,  with  a  volume  in  her  hand.  She  said  that  nothing 
was  more  stupid  than  these  accounts  of  battles — holding  the 
history  of  the  late  war,  open,  as  she  spoke.  The  Captain 
roused  himself,  and  replied,  politely,  yes,  it  was  a  very  fine 
evening.  Miss  Henrietta  thereupon  tossed  her  head  ;  the 
Captain  said  that  the  perfume  of  the  hair-powder  she  used 
was  delightful.  Thereupon  Miss  Henrietta,  in  great  ill- 
humor,  turned  her  back  upon  him,  and  began  to  talk  with 
Mr.  Effingham  ;  and  not  to  be  exceeded  in  civility,  the  Cap« 
tain  turned  his  back  too,  and  began  to  converse,  very  cheer 
fully,  with  Clare  and  Mr.  Hamilton. 

Clare,  as  we  may  imagine,  supported  with  difficulty  this 
long  interview  with  Mr.  Effingham.  He  had  not  addressed 
more  than  half  a  dozen  words  to  her,  and  these  had  been 
characterized  by  a  calm  reserve  ;  but  once  or  twice  their 
eyes  furtively  met,  and  they  saw  plainly  that  each  was  watch 
ing  the  other.  Clare  seemed  uneasy  at  his  presence.  Mr. 
Effingham  felt  his  heart  stir,  in  the  young  girl's  presence — a 
nameless  charm  seemed  to  envelope  her — but  he  kept  his  re 
solution  to  avoid  engaging  in  any  conversation  which  could 
bring  on  any  allusion  to  former  times  and  events.  This  was 
not  difficult,  for  Mr.  Hamilton  engrossed  much  of  Clare's  at 
tention,  and  she  seemed  to  seek  in  his  society  a  refuge  from 
that  of  Mr.  Effingham.  He  commented  inwardly  on  her 
evident  partiality  for  his  friend,  trying  to  say  calmly  to 
himself  that  he  would  make  her  an  excellent  husband. 
Perhaps  the  gloom  upon  his  brow  grew  somewhat  deeper, 
when  the  innocent  girl  smiled  upon  Hamilton  so  kindly  and 
sweetly,  but  he  controlled  his  feelings. 

She  sat  down,  at  the  request  of  Mr,  Hamilton,  and  un 
affectedly  commenced  singing.  The  song  was  "  Logan 
Water,"  and  she  sang  it  with  great  feeling  and  sweetness. 
The  sound  of  her  voice  affected  him  strangely,  and  sitting 
down,  he  drank  in  the  clear,  tender  carol,  his  dreamy  eyes 
fixed  on  her  face. 

That  song  revived  all  the  past  for  him.     She  had  sung  it 

often  for  him,  and  perhaps  tins  was  what  led  her  to  refuse 

Mr.  Hamilton's  request  for  that  particular  song  at  first.     As 

ghe  sang,  all  those  bright,  happy  days  of  youth,  returned  to 

19 


106  AT  THE  HALL. 

him  : — the  days  in  the  woods — the  evening  playing  games— 
the  mornings,  when,  with  her  fair  hair  unbound,  she  ran  hand 
in  hand  with  him,  over  emerald  meadows,  by  rippling, 
laughing  streams.  Again  the  birds  carolled  over  head,  as 
they  carolled  in  the  past,  and  a  flood  of  memories  flowed  in 
upon  his  apathetic  heart,  and  made  its  dull  tide  leap  again. 
As  the  last  notes  died  away,  he  felt  as  though  he  were  leav* 
ing  some  fairy  isle  of  warmth  and  verdure,  and  a  million 
flowers,  to  breast  the  cold,  stormy  seas  of  real  life  ;  and  with 
the  last  plaintive  notes,  the  volume  of  his  memory  closed 
again,  and  his  heart  sank. 

As  she  rose,  they  exchanged  a  long  look  ;  and  Mr. 
Effingham  turned  away. 

Her  look  had  said  :  "  Do  not  avoid  me  thus,  because  we 
have  both  been  unhappy  and  unfortunate ;  because  our  rela 
tions  are  changed,  forget,  as  I  do." 

His  own  said  as  plainly :  "  I  have  tried  your  heart 
cruelly,  I  know  it ;  I  suffer  without  complaining,  or  expect 
ing  the  past  to  return  ;  you  can  never  love  me  again  ;  I  do 
not  complain.  I  deserve  all ;  but  will  bear  my  suffering  in 
silence." 

Had  the  lips  but  said  it! — had  those  glances  spoken 
plainly  ! 

Mr.  Eflingham,  when  he  departed,  merely  bowed.  He 
looked  at  her  again,  with  his  old  dreamy  gaze,  and  went 
away  with  his  companions. 

As  he  went  to  his  chamber  that  night,  he  murmured : 
"  Well,  I  was  mistaken  ;  some  of  the  old  feeling,  for  a 
wonder,  still  remains,  surviving  the  storm.  Let  me  beware 
of  it." 

And  his  head  sank  as  he  spoke. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

AT  THE  HALL. 

OUR  narrative  does  not  require  a  lengthy  description  of  the 
great  dinner  and  ball  at  the  mansion  of  the  squire.  When 
we  have  said  that  the  noble  mansion  blazed  from  top  to  bot- 


AT   THE   HAIL.  lU? 

lorn  •with  a  thousand  lights,  that  chariots  constantly  rolled 
up,  and  deposited  beautiful  dames  and  gallant  cavaliers,  that 
they  dined  in  state,  and  danced  and  feasted  and  made  merry, 
we  have  said  all  that  is  necessary.  As  to  describing  with  a 
mere  pen  one  of  these  old  festivals,  which  still  occasionally 
fill  with  laughter  and  high  revelry  some  old  houses,  the 
thing  is  simply  impossible.  Some  great  artist,  uniting  a 
genius  for  the  humorous  and  the  noble,  the  rude  and  the  ele 
gant,  the  grotesque  and  the  beautiful,  might  possibly  de 
lineate  one  of  these  old  jubilees,  and  the  singular  old  race 
who  delighted  in  them  ;  we  cannot,  yet  we  may,  before  pass 
ing  on  to  the  real  events  of  this  narrative,  pause  a  moment 
to  jot  down  some  of  the  salient  points  of  the  brilliant 
gathering. 

In  addition  to  the  chariots  with  their  rumbling  wheels, 
neighing  horses,  and  cracking  whips,  there  came  great  num 
bers  of  brave  cavaliers  upon  good  steeds,  in  parties,  laughing 
and  jesting,  or  singly.  Sometimes  these  gentlemen  accom 
panied  the  chariots,  as  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Hamilton,  who 
rode  dutifully  by  the  Riverhead  coach,  the  said  coach  con 
taining  Mr.  Lee,  Henrietta,  and  Clare,  who  had  consented 
to  attend  the  ball,  only  after  repeated  requests  from  her 
father,  who  had  observed  and  regretted  her  inexplicable  dip- 
like  to  visiting  at  the  Hall  for  some  wrecks  past. 

The  dinner  was  a  splendid  affair,  and  there  was  much 
marshalling  of  the  guests  in  their  places — his  Excellency, 
Francis  Fauquier,  Governor  of  the  Colony,  sitting  on  the 
squire's  right  hand.  The  dinner  proceeded  as  those  pleasant 
pompous  old  affairs  were  wont  to,  and  in  due  time  the 
gentlemen  were  left  to  their  politics  and  wine.  There  was 
not  much  political  discourse,  however,  in  deference  to  his 
Excellency.  It  was  not  polite  to  denounce  his  gracious 
Majesty,  his  ministry,  and  their  darling  money-project,  the 
stamp  act ;  and  to  speak  favorably  of  any  one  of  these,  was 
more  than  any  guest's  courtesy  could  compass.  So  they  dis 
cussed  the  weather  and  the  crops,  and  the  seven  years'  war, 
last  passed,  and,  above  all,  the  approaching  races  near 
Jamestown,  from  which  they  glided  into  erudite  disquisi 
tions  on  the  pedigree  of  racers. 

As  night  closed  in — they  dined  early,  even  on  state  oo- 
casious,  in  those  honest  da)  ^ — the  cavaliers  betook  them- 


108  AT  THE  BALL. 

selves  to  the  drawing  room,  and  there  insinuated  themselrea 
into  the  glittering  throng  of  lovely  dames,  all  powdered  and 
furbelowed  and  flounced,  and  then  arose  that  buzz  which,  in 
our  time,  by  force  of  progressive  increase,  has  grown  into  a 
stunning  uproar,  in  which  every  one  endeavors,  by  raising 
his  or  her  voice,  to  drown  the  voice  of  every  one  else. 

The  smiling  cavaliers,  in  powder,  ruffles,  embroidery, 
long  waistcoats,  and  silk  stockings,  betook  themselves  to 
paying  devoted  court  to  the  fascinating  dames  in  lace,  dia 
monds,  satin  robes  with  trains,  and  shoes  portentously 
high  in  the  heels;  and  so,  with  flirting  fans,  and  winning 
smiles,  and  low  bows  and  little  graceful  curtsies,  the  time 
passed.  Then  the  well- instructed  musicians,  led  by  Mr. 
William  Booker,  colored  gentleman,  violinist  and  appendage 
to  the  glebe  of  Effiugham,  struck  up  a  minuet,  and  the  fur 
belows  and  silk  stockings  bowed  and  curtsied  with  ambling 
swaying  movement,  with  cocked  hats  pressed  upon  the  heart, 
and  fans  expanded,  and  then  closed  again,  and  many  an  un 
guarded  heart  was  taken  captive,  and  many  silk  stockings 
accompanied  as  many  furbelows  through  the  dance  of  life 
thereafter,  fascinated  with  each  other  in  that  dance  of 
pleasure. 

His  Excellency  danced  with  Miss  Alethea,  though  this  is 
aot  one  of  those  matches  which  we  have  foretold.  Clare 
danced  with  Mr.  Hamilton;  while  Mr.  Effingham  looked  on 
and  sighed ;  lastly,  Kate  danced  with  the  noble  Earl  of 
Dorset,  whose  brilliant  verses  we  have  listened  to  upon  a 
similar  occasion,  at  the  metropolitan  city  of  Williamsburg, 
and  the  fresh,  frank  face  of  the  child  pleased  all,  and  made 
all  love  her.  As  for  the  sensations  experienced  by  Master 
Willie  Effingham,  and  Master  Tommy  Alston  who  was  dying 
for  love  of  Kate,  we  prefer  not  to  venture  upon  such  a  tragi 
cal  subject.  The  noble  Earl,  on  that  occasion,  made  two 
mortal  enemies  for  life. 

So  the  stately  minuets  glided  onward  to  the  lofty  music, 
rejoicing,  one  would  say,  with  a  low,  melodious,  well-bred 
laughter  in  its  undertones  at  all  this  pompous  ceremony,  and 
graceful  reverential  bowing,  and  low  curtsying.  Then  came 
supper,  in  due  time,  where  healths  were  drank  many  fathoma 
deep,  and  where  the  ladies  took  scarcely  more  nourishment 
than  they  do  at  present.  Then  the  gay,  glancing,  merry 


4T   THE   HALL.  ld9 

hours  fled  on  with  music  once  again,  and  finally,  when  mid 
night  had  long  sounded,  the  ball  drew  to  an  end  with  that 
merry  and  enlivening  divertisement,  a  Virginia  reel. 

If  the  music  for  the  minuet  was  glad  and  merry,  under  all 
its  stately  and  prim  cadences,  the  music  of  the  reel  was  more 
than  unaffected  merriment : — the  merriment  was  mad,  des 
perate,  exuberant,  headlong  and  uproarious.  The  right  arnc 
of  the  noble  minstrels  darted  furiously  up  and  down — the 
violins  and  hautboys  nearly  cracked  with  the  immense  flood 
of  harmony ;  and  if  the  lovely  damsels  smiled  before,  they 
laughed  out  loudly  now  :  and  flashed  like  shooting  stars  from 
end  to  end  of  the  great  room  : — and  scattered  perfumed  pow 
der  in  a  cloud  : — and  then,  as  the  mad  music  stopped  with  a 
long  scrape,  stood  still  with  laughing  lips  and  panting  bo 
soms,  and  red  cheeks  and  dancing  eyes,  fanning  themselves 
and  uttering  little  rapturous  exclamations,  and  assuming  die 
away  airs  :  and  so  the  reel  too  was  dead  : — it  ended  all. 

Perhaps  the  most  picturesque  portion  of  the  whole  festi 
val  was  the  breaking  up.  In  those  times,  they  drank  deep, 
and  a  gentleman  imbibed  his  two  bottles  as  he  wore  his  sword 
— as  a  matter  of  course.  The  consequence  was — heads  being 
much  the  same  then  as  they  are  at  present — that  more  than 
one  of  the  gallants  present  on  the  occasion  found  themselves 
elated  to  the  pitch  of  noisy  merriment,  and  the  Effingham 
woods  echoed  back  their  shouts  and  songs  for  leagues. 

The  chariots  resumed  their  burdens : — though  many  staid 
at  the  ball  all  night — the  gubernatorial  coach,  with  those  six 
glossy  white  horses  which  have  become  history,  bore  off  his 
noble  Excellency  :  and  amid  a  tremendous  clatter  of  negroes' 
voices,  cracking  whips,  rumbling  wheels,  and  merry  excla 
mations,  the  festival,  like  all  bright  things,  went  onward  to  the 
future. 

Mr.  Effingham  assisted  Clare  to  enter  the  Riverhead  cha 
riot,  with  grave  softness  and  courtesy :  pressing  Hamilton's 
hand  with  friendly  warmth ;  and  so  the  carriage  rolled  away, 
and  Mr.  Effinghaui's  heart  went  with  it. 

As  he  entered  his  chamber,  he  murmured  as  before,  "  The 
storm  has  passed,  but  all  of  the  old  feeling  is  not  dead : — 
beware  1 "  and,  sleeping  with  his  pale  face  illumined  by  the 
broad  full  moon,  he  dreamed  of  her,  and  saw  her  glide  before 


110  THE   HON.    MR.    CROW,    AS    AMBASSADOR. 

him  with  veiled  brows  and  tender  eyes  and  open  arms.    And 
when  he  tried  to  clasp  her  to  his  heart  she  vanished. 

A  shadow  crossed  the  sleeper's  forehead,  and  his  hand 
etole  to  his  brow.  Then  his  face  grew  serene  again — tho 
brow  clear  and  soft.  He  heard  her  singing. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

BKETOHES  THE  COURT  TO  WHICH  THE  HON.  MR  CROW  WAS  ACCRB 
DITED  AS  AMBASSADOR. 

ABSORBED  in  what  has  been  going  on  at  the  Hall,  at  River- 
head,  at  the  bachelor  Trap  of  Mr.  Hamilton,  which  has  never 
caught  a  wife  yet  for  that  worthy  gentleman,  we  have  treated 
with  undeserved  neglect  and  improper  silence  the  affairs  of 
Lanky  and  his  sweetheart — Donsy  Smith,  daughter  of  Mr 
A.  Z.  Smith,  the  rosy  little  factor  at  Williamsburg.  But 
the  historian  cannot  give  his  attention  at  the  same  time  to 
the  Lords  and  Commons :  while  the  Lords  prose  in  their 
lofty  elevation,  the  Commons  debate  furiously  in  the  lower 
house  : — and  so  the  entertaining  prosiness  and  fiery  debate 
cannot  be  reported  at  one  and  the  same  time.  For  fear, 
however,  that  our  lame  metaphor  will  break  down  if  we  push 
It  farther,  and  betray  its  want  of  application  to  the  characters 
of  this  history,  we  shall  proceed  to  narrate  simply  what  fol 
lowed  the  resolution  taken  on  that  bright  spring  morning  by 
our  friend  Lanky,  and  how  Mr.  Crow — or  "  Jeames,"  as  he 
was  wont  to  call  himself  with  noble  simplicity — acquitted 
himself  in  the  arduous  and  responsible  character  of  Envoy 
Extraordinary  and  Minister  Plenipotentiary  near  the  Court 
of  Parson  Tag,  King  of  the  Oldfield  School,  and  Emperor 
of  the  Ferule. 

Perhaps  the  shortest  and  most  satisfactory  means  of  put 
ting  the  reader  in  possession  of  the  events  which  attended  the 
embassy  of  the  Honorable  Mr,  Crow  will  be  to  present  those 
events  in  a  direct  and  dramatic  form.  Then  shall  we  see 
how  umbrage  was  taken  by  Emperor  Tag,  at  the  person  and 
intent  of  the  ambassador,  as  well  as  at  his  unambassadorial 
costume : — how  the  right  of  the  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to 
appear  in  his  every  day  citizen's  dress  was  harshly  question- 


THE   HON.    MA.     CROW,   AS   AMBASSADOR.  11! 

«d ;  even  his  right  to  appear  at  all ;  and  how  in  the  hour  of 
danger  that  costume  afforded  him  no  protection,  and  led  by 
its  deficiencies  to  a  speedy  resignation  of  his  high  and  respon 
sible  duties.  Let  us  not,  however,  anticipate  :  every  event 
in  its  place. 

Willie  arrived  at  school  some  time  after  the  proper  hour, 
mounted  as  usual  on  his  small  pony,  and  he  entered  with  some 
fear  of  a  reproof.  But  in  this  he  was  mistaken.  Parson 
Tag  was  mildly  courteous,  and  most  pleasantly  good-humor 
ed.  To  explain  this  singular  and  unwonted  circumstance— 
for  the  parson  usually  administered  justice  like  Dionysius, 
the  tyrant — we  have  only  to  inform  the  reader  that  the  worthy 
gentleman  had  been  present  at  the  Hall  on  the  previous  even 
ing,  and  had  delighted  his  inward  man  with  sundry  vianda 
and  vintages  of  the  most  savory  description.  He  bad  been 
treated  with  great  courtesy  by  the  well-bred  host,  also  : — and 
thus  he  was  in  a  highly  amiable  state  of  mind — especially 
toward  Willie.  If  the  reader  is  surprised  at  the  fact  of  the 
parson's  attending  the  festival  at  the  Hall,  after  his  quarrel 
with  the  squire,  we  can  only  say  that  our  sketch  of  this  wor 
thy's  character  must  have  been  defective.  He  was  not  the 
man  to  despise  an  excellent  supper  and  delicious  wines,  be 
cause  he  hated  and  had  quarrelled  with  the  host. 

The  school  was  busy  as  usual,  and  a  long  row  of  girls  and 
boys  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  conning  their  lessons, 
and  preparing  for  the  fiery  ordeal.  On  the  benches  ranged 
round  the  apartment  sat  many  more,  leaning  their  slates,  or 
copy-books,  or  grammars,  on  the  long  desk  which  extended 
equally  with  the  benches  from  end  to  end ;  and  these  hard 
little  students  were  engaged  apparently  in  the  most  intense 
toil. 

Some  grasped  their  hair  furiously  at  sums  in  arithmetic, 
which  persisted  in  turning  out  wrong : — for  how  could  the 
remainder  be  greater  than  the  figures  from  which  the  others 
were  subtracted  ?  Some  went  on  voyages  of  half  an  hour 
around  the  world,  taking  in  spices  of  Sumatra,  Ceylon  and 
the  Suuda  isles  ;  fighting  their  way  into  inhospitable  Japan  j 
taking  a  census  of  the  population  of  the  exclusive  cities  of 
Pekin  and  Shanghai  and  other  Chinese  places .  some  fought 
their  way  into  the  noble  English  grammar,  others  bent  down 
over  copy-books,  endeavoring  painfully  to  enunciate  in  legi- 


112  THE   HON.    MR.    CROW,    AS   AMBASSADOR. 

ble  letters  the  propositions  that  "  Honesty  is  the  host  poli 
cy,"  and  that  "  Evil  communications  corrupt  good  man 
ners : "  and  when  a  spatter  fell  upon  the  page,  the  hearts  of 
the  urchins  were  filled  with  dreadful  visions  of  descending 
ferules,  and  aching  blistered  hands. 

The  little  maidens  were  busy,  too,  in  all  these  branches ; 
and  with  atlases  before  them,  heard  the  nightingales  singing 
in  the  valley  of  Cashmere ; — and  sailed  along  the  Tigris  in 
a  splendid  barge  to  visit  the  great  Caliph  Haroun  at  his 
Bagdad  palace ; — and  swam  to  the  sound  of  melodious  gui 
tars  in  gondolas  on  broad  canals  in  Venice : — and  looked 
carefully  for  the  mountain  by  the  royal  city  of  Grenada, 
whereon  pausing  wofully,  the  handsomo  Moslem  uttered 
the  "  last  sigh  of  the  Moor."  Others  were  busy  with  arith 
metic,  and  copying  just  as  the  boys  were ;  and  the  only  dif 
ference  was  that  they  did  not  anticipate  chastisement  for  de 
linquency.  The  parson  had  lived  in  his  adopted  country — 
Virginia,  that  is  to  say — long  enough  to  find  that  it  was  not 
customary  for  one  of  the  ruder  sex,  however  lofty  his  station, 
to  lay  his  hand  "  even  in  the  way  of  kindness  "  upon  one  of 
the  opposite  sex,  however  humble,  and  so  the  little  maidens 
only  dreaded  "  demerits,"  and  these  they  struggled  to  avoid. 

What  we  have  thus  briefly  described,  was  the  exoteric 
and  external  appearance  of  things  : — which  would  have 
struck  a  stranger,  and  caused  him  to  believe  that  of  all  the 
scholars  that  ever  gladdened  with  their  industry  and  appli 
cation  the  pedagogic  heart,  those  of  the  pedagogue  in  ques 
tion  were  the  most  prudent  and  exemplary.  A  somewhat 
closer  view,  however,  would  have  revealed  what  we  must 
borrow  another  scientific  word  to  characterize — the  esoteric 
phase  of  the  Oldfield  school.  From  time  to  time  the 
maidens  and  urchins  exchanged  Jaughing  and  mysterious 
glances  over  their  slates  or  atlases  — the  lips  of  the  damsels 
would  move  with  exaggerated  expressiveness,  to  the  end 
that  from  the  movement  of  those  cherry-like  appendages, 
their  cavaliers  might  divine  what  they  meant  to  express. 
Then  when  the  cavaliers  remained  obstinately  dull  and  would 
not  understand,  the  little  maidens  made  signs  upon  theii 
fingers,  after  the  well  known  manner  of  the  dumb ;  and  when 
the  still  obtuse  urchins  shook  their  heads,  little  scraps  of 
paper  were  hastily  covered  with  stealthy  pencil  marks,  and 


THE   HON.    MR.    CB.OW,    A8   AMBASSADOR.  113 

rolled  up  and  tossed  invisibly  across,  while  the  maidens 
seemed  to  be  deeply  immersed  in  study.  And  the  urching 
read,  "  Just  look  at  Sally  Jones  and  Tom  Lackland  !  " — or, 
"  You  promised  me  an  apple  !  " — or,  "  Have  you  done  tliat 
horrid  sum  ?  " — or,  "  Robert  Dawson  don't  know  his  lesson 
again,  and  the  parson'll  whip  him.  Ain't  it  shameful  ?  " 

Another  esoteric  phase  was  going  on  sub  rosd,  that  is, 
under  the  desk  :  small  hands  of  little  maidens  were  squeezed 
there  in  the  most  gallant  and  impassioned  manner  by  chev 
aliers  who  coveted  an  opportunity  to  expire  nobly  in  defence 
of  their  ladyloves : — and  fruit,  cakes,  tarts,  biscuits,  were 
smuggled,  as  lasting  proofs  of  devoted  and  disinterested  af 
fection  : — and  while  the  hands  were  being  pressed  under  the 
little  aprons,  the  noble  cavaliers  assumed  an  innocent  and 
abstracted  expression  which  would  have  done  them  credit  in 
the  eyes  of  indifferent  observers  : — and  then  at  the  master's 
dreadful  glance  the  beaus  retreated  from  their  sweethearts 
precipitately,  and  betook  themselves  to  study  : — that  is,  to 
studying  the  manner  of  passing  "  playtime  "  to  the  best  ad 
vantage,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  their  spelling-books  with 
well-executed  art,  and  deeply  immersed  in  the  study — 
which  we  have  mentioned. 

No  event  of  any  importance  disturbed  the  even  tenor  of 
the  noble  academy  that  morning.  True,  some  half  a  dozen 
unfortunate  dunces  were  feruled  for  being  destitute  of 
brains ;  true,  a  youthful  gentleman,  with  a  genius  for  cari 
cature,  was  caught  just  as  he  had  put  the  finishing  touch  to 
a  splendid  design  of  the  parson  on  his  slate — which  design 
represented  the  worthy  gentleman  arrayed  in  a  shovel  hat 
some  leagues  in  width,  with  a  body  formed  of  a  tobacco 
hogshead,  from  beneath  which  issued  an  enormous  pair  of 
feet  crushing  to  death  a  squealing  tythe  pig : — true,  the 
wailing  of  the  dunces  and  the  unappreciated  artist  filled  tho 
room  and  struck  terror  into  cavalier  and  lady,  boy  and  girl 
alike  : — but  these  little  occurrences  were  not  uncommon,  and 
things  went  on  very  pleasantly  until  li  playtime  :  " — when  all 
rushed  forth  free  as  air,  and  wild  as  little  colts  turned  loose 
in  a  green  pasture,  with  liberty  to  roll,  and  run,  and  turn 
somersets,  and  gambol  to  their  hearts'  content. 

The  noble  monarch  of  the  school  remained  within,  en 
throned  in  state  upon  his  rostrum,  from  which  he  surveyed 


i!4  AN    ORIGINAL    STUMP    SPEECH. 

the  unfortunates,  who,  having  neglected  their  tasks,  now  had 
the  excruciating  and  tantalizing  pleasure  of  hearing  their 
companions  shouting  at  their  play  out  under  the  blue  sky. 
The  noble  parson  embraced  the  opportunity  to  comfort  hia 
inner  man  with  sandwiches  and  Jamaica  rum,  gazing,  as  he 
partook  of  these  humble  condiments  and  liquids,  upon  the 
sketch  of  himself  we  have  already  described. 

Let  us  leave  him  there,  enthroned  in  state,  and  go  and 
breathe  that  fresh  air  which  is  driving  the  little  maids  and 
urchins  mad  with  full  delight.  It  is  more  wholesome. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

CROW  MAKES  A  SPEECH  ON  THE  STAMP  ACT  AND  SUFFERS  TUB 
FATE  OF  POPULARITY  SEEKERS. 

LOOK! 

Perhaps  the  two  things  most  similar  and  at  the  same 
time  dissimilar,  are  a  play-ground  and  that  work-ground 
which  we  call  the  world.  In  both  these  are  aspirations  and 
passions  ;  loves  and  hatreds ;  sad  and  merry  faces ;  toilings 
after  objects  not  worth  the  pursuit ;  and  neglected  pleasures, 
which  far  outweigh  those  which  humanity  run  after  with 
such  ardor  and  enthusiasm.  The  child  is  father  of  the 
man ;  and  his  offspring  follows  the  bent  of  its  parent : — pur 
sues;-  and  loves,  and  suffers  and  rejoices,  and  runs  the  wild, 
laughing  or  despondent  race ;  and  then  the  bell  of  fate  sum 
mons  the  weary  player  to  the  shades  within,  where  no  sun 
shines,  no  blue  sky  arches  overhead — save  in  the  eye  of 
faith  and  hope. 

But  with  all  this  similarity,  we  know  that  the  real  differ 
ence  is  very  striking.  How  gaily,  thoughtlessly,  the  boy 
plays,  and  laughs  and  rolls  upon  the  grass,  and  climbs  for 
birds'  nests,  and  is  pleased  with  trifles — not  dreaming  of  the 
time  when  all  his  hopes,  his  illusions,  his  romance,  his 
thoughtless  lightheartedness  will  change,  and  he  will  have  to 
go  and  buckle  on  his  armor  for  the  struggle  with  that  strong 
enemy — human  life.  How  the  little  maidens  run  and  play 
and  gambol  with  their  boy  sweethearts : — their  hair  flowing 


AN    ORIGINAL    STUMP    SPEECH.  115 

unconfined,  their  eyes  dancing  for  pure  merriment,  their 
hearts  free  as  yonder  bird's  who  cuts  the  blue  air  on  his  joy 
ous  wings  towards  the  rosy  cast : — they  know  not,  will  not, 
cannot  believe  that  the  time  will  come  when  that  hair  must 
be  primly  bound  up ;  then  turn  gray  :  when  those  eyes  will  be 
dimmed  with  care  and  suffering:  when  those  hearts,  so  wild 
with  pleasure  now,  will  be  made  to  suffer  cruelly  by  some 
of  the  little  urchins  with  whom  they  play  now  laughingly 
Let  us  thank  heaven  for  childhood's  lightness,  however 
The  spring  should  not  be  tried  until  it  is  tempered. 

The  reign  of  marbles  had  come  in  :  and  those  who  have 
reflected  philosophically  upon  these  matters,  will  recall  the 
fact  that  schoolboys  like  men  are  subject  to  furores.  The 
games  which  balls  figure  in  are  everlasting — always  popular : 
but  marbles,  prisoner's  base,  and  "  fox  and  a  warner  "  are 
subject  to  the  laws  of  change : — that  is  to  say,  they  are  at 
one  moment  neglected,  then  placed  high  upon  the  throne  of 
popularity. 

Marbles  reigned  then : — nothing  wa?s  heard  for  a  time 
on  the  joyous  playground  but  those  cabalistic  words, 
"  vence  " — "  things  " — "  leave  lag  " — "  come  to  taw  " — 
"  stop  pokin'  " — let's  plump  " — "  play  for  havin's  " — "  got 
my  ownses  " — "  fat !  " — "  knuckle  down  " — "  turnin's  " — 
etc.,  etc.  We  have  more  than  once  endeavored  to  arrive  at 
the  origin  and  philosophic  significance  of  these  terms,  but 
always  vainly.  "  Vence  "  still  remains  in  our  minds  desti 
tute  of  any  imaginable  root  in  Hebrew,  Sanscrit,  Greek  or 
Scandinavian :  and  the  origin  of  "  lag "  like  that  of  the 
popular  German  beer,  is  doubtful. 

So  they  played :  and  many  large  proprietors  were 
"  broke  :  " — and  others  acquired  large  fortunes,  which  they 
stowed  in  their  capacious  pockets.  The  girls  for  the  most 
part  played  at  skipping  rope,  puss  in  the  corner,  and  hunt 
the  slipper — the  soft  grass  affording  a  very  agreeable  eme 
rald  carpet  for  the  purpose  : — or  they  partook  of  the  con 
tents  of  their  little  baskets  with  great  gusto,  giving  a  por 
tion  to  their  non-marble-playing  cavaliers,  who  had  finished 
their  own  commissary  stores  some  time  before.  A  biscuit 
from  a  maiden  was  considered  proof  of  incipient  affection— 
an  apple  of  tenderness — but  a  tart,  a  real  cherry  tart,  with 


i!6  AN    ORIGINAL    STUMP    SPEECH. 

crimson  blood,  and  yellow,  crisp  delicious  crust  1 — that  was 
an  evidence  of  passionate  and  eternal  love. 

Having  exhausted  marbles,  the  young  gentlemen  betook 
themselves  to  leap-frog,  many  of  them  rolling  on  the  grass 
thereat.  The  artist  of  Parson  Tag  took  a  forlorn  sketch  of 
the  scene  as  he  gazed  at  it  mournfully  through  the  window 
— the  reader  will  understand  that  this  young  gentleman,  in 
addition  to  his  flagellation,  had  been  kept  in — and  having 
been  obliged  with  a  view  of  this  sketch,  which  has  remained 
in  existence  to  the  present  day,  we  have  taken  the  liberty 
of  using  it  for  the  benefit  of  our  readers.  It  represents  the 
youths  in  their  cutaway  coats,  and  short  clothes,  and  woollen 
stockings,  flying  over  the  heads 'of  others,  who  stoop  with 
their  hands  upon  their  knees  ;  and  under  a  tall  oak  a  group 
of  girls  are  watching  the  vaulters,  and  laughing  at  those 
who  roll  upon  the  ground,  victims  to  the  immoral  practice 
in  the  steeds,  of  raising  the  shoulders  as  the  frogs  leap. 
Among  the  maidens  we  recognize  Donsy  perfectly — older 
than  the  rest,  and  laughing  louder  as  Will  rolls  upon  the 
ground. 

Will  breaks  up  the  game,  and  suggests  an  undress  parade 
of  the  Cornstalk  regiment,  which  proposition  is  hailed  with 
pleasure.  Captain  Effingharn  thereupon  marshals  his  sol 
diers,  using  a  piece  of  fence  rail  for  a  sword ;  and,  mounted 
on  a  stump,  makes  them  a  patriotic  address — this  time  unin 
terrupted — wherein  he  repeats  kis  father's  views  upon  the 
Stamp  Act,  which  he  believes  to  be  a  measure  whereby  the 
heads  of  everybody  in  the  Colony  of  Virginia  are  to  be 
chopped  off.  He  denounces  it,  therefore,  and  calls  on  his 
companions  to  organize  an  opposition  to  the  tyrant ;  and 
concludes  with  the  observation  that  there  is  for  himself  but 
one  alternative — either  victory  or  death  1 

This  speech  is  much  admired,  and  a  tmall  storm  of  cheera 
crackle  through  the  air ;  filling  the  orator's  bosom  with  grate 
ful  emotion ;  his  soldiers,  however,  decline  hearing  any  more, 
as  Donsy  is  heard  to  scream  terribly :  and  they  rush  towards 
her  to  ascertain  the  origin  of  her  emotion. 

It  was  very  simple.  Just  as  Master  Will  had  arrived  at 
the  grand  burst,  in  which,  as  we  have  said,  he  declared  his 
sentiments  on  the  subject  of  death  and  victory,  Donsy  Smith 
who  had  been  listening  admiringly,  heard  a  low  whistle  be 


AN   ORIGINAL    STUMP   SPEECH.  117 

hind  her  shoulder,  and,  turning  her  head,  her  cherry  lips  had 
nearly  impressed  a  salute  upon  those  of  Mr.  Crow,  who  sat 
squat  behind  her,  grinning  and  goggle-eyed — resembling, 
indeed,  a  small  goblin  of  Ethiopian  extraction. 

Mr.  Crow,  finding  himself  the  observed  of  all  observers, 
marched  forth  into  the  open  space,  the  thumb  of  one  hand  in 
his  mouth,  the  other  hand  holding  up  the  skirts  of  his  lengthy 
coat.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  he  was  well  worth  seeing,  and 
to  court  observation  j  his  costume  was,  if  possible,  more  di 
plomatic  than  ever,  and  his  eyes  brighter.  His  appearance 
was  hailed  with  a  great  shout, — immediately  a  dozen  hands 
seized  him,  and  he  was  hoisted  to  the  stump,  and  ordered  to 
make  a  speech  at  once,  on  pain  of  dreadful  punishment. 

Mr.  Crow  does  not  display  extraordinary  confusion  at 
this  honour, — does  not  press  his  hand  upon  his  waistcoat,  or 
the  portion  of  the  frame  usually  covered  with  that  garment; 
does  not  bow  or  simper.  He  looks  around  with  an  expres 
sion  of  modest  confidence  and  amiable  good  nature,  sucking 
his  thumb. 

"  A  speech  !  "  they  cry. 

"  A  speech  from  Crow  I  " 

"  Hurrah !  " 

Mr.  Crow  takes  his  thumb  from  his  mouth,  and  finding 
himself  in  a  difficulty,  draws  upon  Mr.  William  Effingham's 
ideas,  which  he  has  listened  to  with  great  attention. 

"  Well,  gemblem,"  he  says,  with  modesty,  "  I'se  oppose, 
myself,  to  dis  stump  ac." 

"  Hurrah  1 "  cry  the  scholars,  "  speak  out,  Crow." 

"  I'se  gwine  to  'pose  it !  "  continues  Crow,  extending 
his  right  arm,  with  an  electric  gesture.  The  crowd  shout  and 
hurrah. 

"I'se  gwine  myself  to  'pose  choppin'  off  my  head  I--- 
'Two'nt  do  noways,  gemblem  1  Just  think  how  a  feller  'd 
feel  1 " 

This  sentiment  produces  loud  applause,  which  Mr.  Crow 
acknowledges  by  waving  the  hand  holding  his  coat  tail,  and, 
consequently,  that  portion  of  his  vestment  also. 

"  I'se  gwine  to  go  agin  it  to  death  I  "  continues  Crow, 
with  an  heroic  gesture,  "  I  wants  my  head  !  how  could  I  eat  1 
bow  gwiue  to  drink  1  how  gwine  to  do  nothin'  1  'thout  a  head. 
Them's  my  seniiners,  gemblem — I  say  victry  or  deth." 


118  AN    ORIGINAL    STUMP    SPEECH. 

And  Crow  brandishes  both  arms  tremendou&ly,  and  fights 
imaginary  foes.  His  speech  is  received  with  tremendous  ap 
plause,  and  a  popular  ovation  is  organized  in  an  instant. 
Mounted  on  a  rail,  which  is  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  half 
a  dozen  of  the  scholars,  who  split  their  sides  laughing,  the 
orator  makes  the  circuit  of  the  play-ground  triumphantly. 
To  be  sure,  the  ovation,  like  all  such  things,  has  its  disad 
vantages,  and  Crow  makes  more  than  one  appeal  to  be  per 
mitted  to  sink  into  obscurity  again.  But  these  entreaties 
are  disregarded,  and  he  only  has  leave  to  change  his  horse 
back  position  from  time  to  time,  by  leaning  forward  on  his 
hands. 

He  says  it  hurts  !  they  reply  that  it  can't  possibly. — 
"  Oh  yes,  it  do  !"  says  Crow,  writhing.  "  Stuff  your  coat  tails 
under  you,"  say  the  urchins.  Crow  resigns  himself,  with  tho 
air  of  a  great  man  in  misfortune, — when  suddenly  the  bell 
rings,  and  the  rail — and,  consequently,  Crow — drops  to  the 
ground. 

Crow  lies  there  until  Donsy  passes,  rubbing  his  knees. 

The  master  appears  at  the  door :  Crow's  back  being 
turned  he  does  not  see  him. 

Donsy  draws  near,  laughing.  Crow  makes  mysterious 
signals  to  her,  which,  at  last,  attract  her  attention. 

Crow  shows  a  letter,  pushing  it  at  her :  Donsy  bends 
down  her  laughing  face,  and  asks  what  in  the  world  he 
means.  Crow  makes  mysterious  signs  of  silence  and  pre 
caution.  Donsy  stretches  out  her  hand  to  take  the  letter, 
upon  the  back  of  which  she  reads  her  own  name,  written  in 
large,  sprawling  characters.  Crow  winks — Donsy  smiles  — 
when,  suddenly,  the  letter  is  grasped  by  a  rough  hand — Crow 
starts  up,  under  the  application  of  a  switch,  and  Parson  Tag, 
pursuing  him,  with  infuriated  visage,  calls  upon  him  by  the 
designations  of  "  rascal,"  "  villain,"  and  "  wretch,"  to  stop. 

Crow  runs  for  life — the  parson  pursues  for  the  gratifi 
cation  of  revenge — his  skirts  flying,  his  puffy  breast  heaving 
with  the  exertion  and  his  wrath. 


HOVT  THE  AMBASSADOR  WAS  UNHORSED,  ETC.     1  10 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HOW  THE  AMBASSADOR  WAS  UNHORSED  AND  THEN  HORSED 

THE  muse  is  proverbially  jealous  and  capricious — else  would 
we  endeavor  to  describe  the  greater  than  Olympic  race  which 
then  ensued : — the  windings,  the  turnings,  the  desperate 
efforts  of  the  great  orator  and  ambassador  to  escape  the  im 
pending  fate.  Still  thundered  on  behind  him  like  an  aveng 
ing  Nemesis  the  irate  parson,  and  Crow  saw  the  shadow  of 
his  outstretched  arm  grasping  at  his  coat  tails. 

New  rapidity  is  added  to  his  headlong  speed  : — he  runs 
like  a  deer,  and  bounds  like  an  antelope  : — when,  most  disas 
trous  event ! — event  ever  to  be  deplored  by  Crow  and  all  his 
posterity ! — his  feet  trod  on  his  coat-skirts,  and,  rolling 
on  the  ground,  he  became  the  prey  of  the  enemy. 

They  had  circled  back  to  the  school-house ;  and  the  par 
son  had  not  far  to  bear  his  captive,  whom  he  grasped  by  the 
waistband  of  his  unmentionables  and  indescribables. 

He  enters  in  awful  state — with  gloomy  brow,  portentous 
frown.  The  assembled  company  are  terror-struck,  and  regard 
Crow  with  horror  and  trembling,  but  with  interest  too  : — as 
in  old  days  the  populace  of  Rome  looked  on  the  ox  going  to 
the  altar  to  be  immolated. 

The  parson  looks  round  for  a  moment  in  silence : — he 
regards  Donsy  with  an  awful  frown. 

"  What  is  this  letter,  brought  by  that  villain  ?  "  he  saya 
to  her. 

Donsy  blushes  and  murmurs  : 

"  Indeed  I  don't  know,  sir." 

"  You  do  not  know  ?  " 

"  ladeed,  I  don't  know,  sir." 

"  Dousy  Smith,  you  are  telling  me  a  falsehood  !  "  Bays 
the  worthy,  with  a  deeper  frown. 

Donsy  flushes  to  the  roots  of  her  hair,  and  looks  indig 
nant. 

"  I  never  did — tell — a  falsehood — in  my  life  !  "  she  says, 
Bobbing. 

"  Very  well,  madam  !  "  replies  the  parson,  "  we  shall  see  ! 
I  have  a  notion  that  this  letter  will  c?ear  up  matters,  and  as 


i2ft          HOW   THE    AMfcASSAfcOR    WAS   UNHORSED,    fiTC. 

your  preceptor  and  spiritual  guide,  I  shall  open  it.  William 
Lane,"  continues  the  worthy,  addressing  the  author  of  the 
sketch  of  himself,  "  take  care  that  that  rascal  who  brought 
this  does  not  escape.  Hold  him  tight,  sir." 

William  Lane  holds  Crow  tightly  by  the  collar,  and  sur 
veys  him  with  forlorn  interest,  thinking  he  would  make  a 
good  sketch. 

The  parson  without  further  preface  tears  open  the  letter 
and  reads  the  following  words,  written  in  large  uneven  cha 
racters,  with  the  end  of  a  stick  apparently. 

"  Oh  my  dear  Miss  Donsy  ! 

"  How  ken  I  express  myself  writin'  to  you.  I  feel  all 
over  a-tremblin'  and  skeered,  and  I'm  'fraid  the  pen  'ill 
drop  from  my  hand  'fore  I  get  thru.  I  couldent  tell  you 
how  much — there  it  is,  comin'  right  out.  Oh  my  dear  Don- 
ey,  if  I  may  call  you  my  dear  Donsy,  which  I'm  'fraid  you'll 
git  mad.  Nobody  in  the  whole  wide  world  ken  love  you 
like  I  do.  'Deed  they  can't — I've  been  a-lovin'  you  now  for 
one  year  and  you  don't  know  it,  or  perhaps  you  do,  if  so  i'm 
mistaken'  I  told  the  cap'n  that  I  couldn't  say  nothin'  when 
you  was  lookin1  at  me,  and  he  told  me  to  go  and  talk  to  you 
and  look  up  bold  and  not  giv'  up  :  I  tried  to,  but  I  couldent, 
and  you  know  how  you  twisted  me  over  yo  thum,  i  don't 
complain — i  don't — but  I  think  you  ought  to  like  me  sum, 
cause  I've  been  faithful  to  you,  and  never  would  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  Sally  Jones,  who  is  a  pretty  girl  too,  you 
know. 

"  And  now  my  dear  Miss  Donsy — or  if  you'll  let  me  call 
you  so,  my  dearest  Donsy,  take  pity  on  poor  Lanky ;  I  love 
you  a  heap,  and  I  think  you  ought  to  like  me  sum  ,  i  can't 
play  on  my  fiddle  or  work  for  thinkin'  of  you,  and  I  never 
can  forget  you — no  I  can't.  I  thought  I'd  write  it  down,  as 
I  couldn't  say  it,  and  Crow  will  carry  it :  the  black  boy  from 
town,  you  know. 

"  0  !  Donsy,  I  love  you  so  much,  indeed  I  do.  So  no  more 
from  your  friend,  till  death,  and  loving, 

"  LANKY." 

"  Poscrip'.  Don't  show  this  to  any  body,  and  don't  let 
the  girls  or  boys  see  it,  they  would  laugh  at  me  0  i  if  I 


HOW    THE    AMBASSADOR    WAS    UNttORSfiD,    ETC.  121 

eould  only  do  somsthin'  for  you — kill  somebody,  or  do  some- 
thin'  of  that  sort,  you  know. 

"  Your  lover  till  death, 

"  LANKY." 

"  Poscrip'  agin.  To-morrow's  Saturday,  and  the  cap'n 
says  I  may  have  holida'.  I'm  comin'  to  see  you,  and  we  can 
go  a  fishin',  you  know.  You've  caught  my  heart,  O !  my 
dear  Miss  Donsy,  or  rather,  dearest  Donsy. 

"  Your  devoted  lover  till  death, 

"  LANKY." 

The  parson  reads  this  epistle  with  a  countenance  working 
with  rage. 

"  And  you  dared  to  bring  this,  did  you !  "  he  says  to  the 
unfortunate  Crow,  who  rubs  his  coat  cuff  in  his  eyes  despond- 
ingly,  "  you  are  the  black  boy  from  town  the  letter  speaks 
of,  are  you  !  You  are  the  villain  that  dared  to  come  and 
hold  surreptitious  intercourse  with  my  female  .scholars,  bear 
ing  amatory  missives,  like  this  barbarous  production ! — you 
are  the  messenger,  are  you  !  " 

Crow  does  not  understand  the  meaning  of  "  amatory 
missive,"  and  "  barbarous  production,"  but  he  feels  a  dread 
ful  consciousness  that  he  is  guilty  of  committing  those  two 
crimes,  which  he  regards  with  horror,  and  fears  a  terrible 
punishment  for.  He  is  not  suffered  to  remain  long  in  doubt. 
The  parson,  rolling  up  his  cuffs,  and  grasping  a  long  and  pliant 
birch,  cries : 

"  Horse   the  villain !     You,  sir !   you   William   Lan* 
immediately,  sir." 

And  Crow,  spite  of  his  desperate  struggles,  is  placed 
upon  the  back  of  Mr.  William  Lane.  The  parson  looks  at 
him  for  a  moment,  with  gloomy  and  irate  interest:  Crow, 
with  his  head  turned  sideways,  regards  the  dreadful  birch, 
and  calculates  the  impending  ruin.  His  hands  are  held 
tightly  by  the  "  horse  :  " — his  coat  skirts  are  arranged  grace 
fully  upon  each  side  :  his  legs  kick  the  air : — the  hour  was 
come. 

"  Now,  you  rascal  1 "  says  the  parson,  "  I  have  caught 
you  ! » 

And  the  birch  descends  upon  the  unfortunate  Crow,  who 
writhes  with  anguish. 


122          BOW   THE   AMBASSADOR   WAS    aNHORSED,    ETC. 

"  Now,  you've  caught  it !  "  cries  the  parson,  whistling  his 
birch  through  the  air,  and  bringing  it  down  upon  the  repent 
ant  ambassador  again. 

"  Oh,  mas'  parson  !  oh,  mas'  parson  !  "  cries  Crow. 

The  blows  fall  thicker — the  ambassador  cries  out  more 
loudly — the  parson  pants  with  the  exertion — the  unfortunate 
Crow  writhes. 

"  Try  that  again,  sir  ?  "  says  the  parsou,  striking  quicke/ 

Crow  protests  with  overwhelming  earnestness,  that  he 
has  repented — will  reform.  Debarred  from  using  persuasive 
gestures  with  his  arms,  he  kicks  his  legs,  following  uncon 
sciously  the  great  precept  of  Demosthenes. 

Donsy  looks  on  with  indignation,  and  she  does  not  care 
to  conceal  it.  The  parson  sees  this  expression,  and  says,  in 
a  pause  of  his  exertions  : 

"  Very  well,  my  lady  !  you  are  presuming  to  frown  when 
I  am  punishing  this  wretch  !  " 

"  It  is  unjust !  "  cries  Donsy. 

"  Take  care,  madam  !  " 

"  It  is  !  "  sobs  Donsy,  "  and  you  had  no  right  to  snatch 
my  letter  and  read  it : — that  you  hadn't,  sir  1 " 

And  she  sheds  a  torrent  of  mortified  tears — the  parson 
regarding  her  with  a  mixture  of  surprise,  scorn,  and  anger. 

"  You  presume,  then,  to  lecture  me,  madam  1 "  he  says. 

Donsy  repeats  obstinately  : 

"  You  had  no  right  to  read  my  letter  ! — no,  you  hadn't !  " 

The  parson  takes  a  step  toward  the  girl. 

"  Don't  provoke  me  you  little  hussy  !  "  he  says,  "  or  I'll 
whip  you  too." 

"  Me  ! "  cries  Donsy,  overwhelmed  with  indignation,  and 
dread  of  the  disgraceful  punishment. 

"  Yes,  you  1  I'll  whip  you,  within  an  inch  of  your  life !  " 

H  No,  you  won't  1 "  cries  Will  Effingham,  starting  up, 
"just  try  it!" 

But  before  the  parson  can  turn  round,  this  champion  is 
Bunk  into  the  shade  immediately :  the  door  bursts  open  with 
a  loud  mise — a  stool  is  turned  over,  and  Donsy  has  a  second 
and  more  irate  champion, 


CfcARIOT    AND    FOUR    COMES    TO    THE       aSCUB.         123 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

IN  WHICH  A  CHARIOT  AND  FOUE  HOKSE8  COMES  TO  THE  RESCUE. 

THE  new  champion  is  no  other  than  our  friend  Lanky — but 
so  disguised  that  we  should  scarcely  have  known  him  by 
twilight.  He  wears  an  old  cocked  hat  of  the  Captain's,  a 
pair  of  his  cast-off  boots,  and  around  his  waist  is  buckled  an 
old  sword,  which  clatters  against  his  boots : — all  which  deco 
rations  he  has  assumed  by  the  advice  of  the  soldier,  to  make 
an  impression  on  the  heart  of  his  ladylove. 

Lanky  had  followed  his  messenger,  seen  the  capture  of 
his  letter,  the  pursuit  of  Crow,  and  the  capture  of  that  gen 
tleman  : — he  had  gone  to  the  door  when  it  was  closed ; — seen 
the  parson  reading  disdainfully,  the  splendid  epistle  which 
it  had  taken  him  a  week  to  concoct ; — and  then  witnessed 
the  sacrifice  of  Mr.  Crow : — all  this  with  anger  and  indigna 
tion  which  gradually  grew  hotter,  and  began  to  boil  within 
him.  Then  he  had  seen  Donsy  remonstrate,  had  heard  the 
parson  threaten  her — lastly  had  seen  him  advance  toward 
that  empress  of  his  heart,  with  an  upraised  rod  to  inflict 
upon  his  Donsy  a  disgraceful  punishment.  Then  he  boiled 
over,  rage  carried  him  away — he  burst  open  the  door,  and 
rushed  in,  regardless  of  consequences. 

The  parson  turns,  with  a  tremendous  frown  upon  his 
visage. 

"  Try  it  I  yes,  try  it !  "  cries  Lanky,  drawing  his  sword 
and  boiling  over,  as  we  have  observed,  with  indignation,  "just 
touch  Donsy  1  let  me  see  you  1 " 

The  scholars  gaze  at  the  champion,  and  tremble. 

"  Yes,  it's  shameful  to  be  a  threatenin'  a  girl !  you  know 
it  is  I "  continues  Lanky,  trembling  with  excitement,  and 
stamping  upon  the  floor  with  his  great  feet ;  "  a  man  who 
would  hurt  a  girl  don't  deserve  any  sort  o'  respect !  " 

The  parson,  for  a  moment  paralyzed  by  the  audacity  of 
the  intruder,  and  doubting  whether  he  is  not  some  grand 
seigneur — makes  no  reply  :  but  suddenly  recognizes  Lanky : 
Lanky  the  country  bumpkin  :  Lanky  the  barbarous  heathen, 
ignorant  even  of  the  existence  of  syntax  and  prosody : 
Lanky  the  scum  of  the  earth.  He  starts  forward  to  attack 
him. 


.24        A    CHARIOT   AND   FOUR    COMES   TO    TttE    RESCUE. 

But  Donsy  interposes  to  protect  her  cavalier — she  seizes 
the  uplifted  rod.  The  parson  utters  a  cry  of  rage,  and  en 
deavors  to  release  his  arm,  and  strike  the  girl. 

Lanky  rushes  at  him  thereupon,  and  grapples  with  him 
furiously — Donsy  screams — Crow  rolls — the  parson  strug 
gles  with  his  enemy,  and  with  one  of  the  quick  movements 
of  his  elbow,  strikes  Donsy,  who  falls  into  the  arms  of  Will 
Effingham,  rushing  to  her  rescue. 

Lanky,  driven  to  fury,  clenches  his  teeth,  throws  his 
whole  weight  upon  his  antagonist's  hreast,  and  they  both  fall, 
Lanky's  sword  -striking  against  the  benches  with  an  awful 
clatter. 

"  Murder !  "  cries  the  parson. 

"  Oh  Lanky  !  "  says  Donsy. 

"  Go  it ! "  says  Will. 

But  Lanky  cannot  strike  a  prostrate  foe  :  had  he  been  a 
knight  of  the  middle  age,  his  martial  sword  no  doubt  would 
have  entered  the  breast  of  his  enemy.  But  Lanky  is  a 
simple  country  young  gentleman  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
and  he  rises. 

The  parson  starts  to  his  feet  again,  furious,  raging : — he 
seizes  the  tongs :  he  launches  those  useful  instruments  at 
Lanky,  and  knocks  down  the  unfortunate  Crow,  who  disap 
pears  like  a  ball  of  charcoal  through  the  open  door,  and  is 
no  more  seen. 

Lanky  thereupon  draws  his  sword : — the  parson  seizes 
a  stick  of  wood  :  Lanky  brandishes  the  deadly  weapon — 
the  parson  grasps  his  billet ; — the  bitter  enemies  prepare  for 
the  final  and  decisive  charge,  the  great  struggle  which  shall 
decide  all. 

This  is  the  position  of  affairs,  when  there  appears  at  the 
door  a  martial  and  stalwart  looking  gentleman,  with  a  long 
black  moustache  and  laughing  face,  who  cries  in  loud,  stri 
dent  tones, 

"  M&rbleu,  !  Diable !  Sacre  !  Why  it's  Lanky  !  " 

And  overcome  by  the  ludicrous  figure  of  the  parson  and 
the  intensely  warlike  attitude  of  Lanky,  Captain  Ralph 
bursts  into  a  loud  laugh.  Lanky  turns  at  this  noise,  recog 
nizes  his  master,  and  dutifully  lowers  his  sword. 

"  Qiie  le  diablel"  cries  the  Captain,  laughing  again. 
"  Was  the  like  ever  seen  ?  What  1  fighfing  the  clergy,  yof 
villain  ?  I'm  ashamed  of  you  1 " 


A  CHARIOT  AND  FOUR  COMES  TO  THE  RESCUE.    125 

Lanky  restores  his  weapon  to  its  place,  and  hangs  hii 
head. 

"  He  wanted  to  whip  Donsy,"  says  Lanky. 

"  Whip  a  girl  ?  » 

"  Yes,  Cap'n." 

"  Bah  !  is  that  possible,  reverend  sir  ?  It  cannot  be 
that  you  would  have  struck  a  child,  and  that  child  a 
girl?" 

The  parson  draws  himself  up  haughtily,  and  drops  the 
stick  of  wood. 

"  Permit  me,  if  you  please,  sir,"  he  says,  looking  side- 
wise  at  his  interlocutor,  "  to  act  as  seems  proper  to  me  in 
my  own  school  1 " 

"  Basta  !  I  shall  permit  no  such  thing !  Ah  !  your 
reverence,  you  are  greatly  mistaken  if  you  think  the  State 
of  Virginia  is  like  the  frontier  of  Germany.  You  will 
recollect." 

The  parson  looks  gloomily  at  the  Captain,  striving  to 
recognize  him. 

"  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  "  he  says. 

"Mafoi!  Waters  is  my  name,  and  you  will  recollect 
that  we  had  the  pleasure  of  carrying  a  halberd,  side  by  side, 
somewhere  about  the  year  '55.  Eh  ?  Well,  sir,  I  repeat 
that  your  reverence  can  no  longer  carry  the  high  hand,  and 
make  the  women  and  girls  scream,  as  you  once  used  to,  when 
you  drove  them  in  crowds  from  their  quarters  in  the  villages. 
Bah  I  you  disgust  me,  you  great  gobemouche,  and  I  think 
that  Lanky  must  decidedly  have  been  in  the  right." 

Strange  and  tremendous  to  relate,  the  parson  no  longer 
looks  bold,  or  retains  his  proud,  haughty  attitude ;  he  cowers 
before  the  disdainful  words  of  the  soldier  ,  he  permits  Lanky 
to  make  his  report  without  interruption.  The  Captain  ex 
onerates  Lanky,  but  observes  that,  as  a  general  rule,  it  is 
improper  to  attack  the  clergy  with  carnal  weapons,  and  then 
makes  a  sign  to  Donsy,  who  approaches,  sobbing. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Miss  Donsy,"  he  says,  gallantly,  "  I  as 
sure  you  I  understand  perfectly  Lanky's  infatuation  now  ! 
But  believe  me,  if  you  have  a  pretty  face,  Lanky  has  a  warm 
and  excellent  heart — bon  garqon !  and  as  true  as  steel,  with 
that  pine  knot  head  of  his.  N  ow  see  1  I  am  sure  the  par 
«m  will  treat  you  well  in  future,  for  my  sake." 


126    A  CHARIOT  AND  POUR  COMES  TO  THE  RESCUE. 

The  parson  feels  himself  in  his  enemy's  power:  he  ii 
growing  humbler  and  humbler. 

"  Come,  don't  cry,"  says  the  worthy  Captain,  "  that  is 
bad." 

"  I'm  not  well,  sir.  I  have  been  sick  lately.  I'm  not 
crying,  sir." 

With  which  Donsy  sobs. 

"  Morbleu  !  I  never  could  bear  tears.  Egad  !  I'll  tako 
you  home.  Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"In  town,  sir." 

"  Too  far  to  walk  if  you  are  unwell ;  faith !  you  shall  go 
with  me." 

Donsy  looks  at  the  parson  dutifully,  who  nods  a  sullen 
assent,  and  says  to  the  Captain  : 

"  I'm  afraid  your  horse  will  not  carry  us  both,  sir." 

"  My  horse  ?     I  have  none." 

"  Sir  ?  "  says  Donsy. 

"  I  can  offer  you  better  than  a  horse,  Miss  Donsy,"  says 
the  Captain,  and  he  leads  her  out,  Lanky  following. 

Not.  far  from  the  door  stands  a  splendid  chariot,  with 
four  fine  pawing  horses,  reined  in  by  a  plethoric  coachman. 
Behind  on  the  shining  footboard  stands  another  servant,  and 
the  whole  equipage  is  in  the  richest  and  finest  taste.  Lanky's 
eyes  expand  to  the  dimensions  of  saucers ;  the  Captain 
laughs. 

"  My  new  coach,  pardy ! "  he  says.'    "  Permit  me  to  in 
troduce  it  to  you,  Mr.  Lanky ;  just  arrived,  and  my  jewels 
with  it." 

"  Your  coach,  sir  ? "  says  Lanky,  in  an  attitude  of 
wonder. 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  Your  jewels,  sir  ?  " 

"  Pardy  ! " 

"Oh,  Cap'n!" 

And  after  this  supreme  exhibition  of  surprise,  Lanky  re 
mains  in  a  trance  of  wonder  and  admiration. 

"  I  heard  that  infernal  racket  you  were  raising  in  there," 
Bays  the  Captain,  as  he  leads  Donsy  towards  the  chariot, 
"  and  felt  a  presentiment  that  you  and  your  new  ornaments 
had  something  to  do  with  it.  I  jumped  out — entered  I 
Voila  toute ! " 


A  CHARIOT  AND  FOUR  COMES  TO  THE  RESCUE.    127 

And  the  Captain  assists  Donsy  in,  and  motions  Lanky  to 
follow. 

"  Oh,  Cap'n  !  "  says  Lanky. 

And  this  is  all  he  can  say.  The  Captain  enters  last,  the 
door  is  closed,  and,  wheeling  round,  the  coach  takes  the 
road  toward  Williamsburg,  which  it  has  just  left.  Lanky 
preserves  the  silence  of  admiration  and  triumph.  His  stal 
wart  arm  has  rescued  his  lady  love ;  a  fairy  chariot  rolls  up 
to  bear  her  and  him  away  from  the  enemy's  clutches ;  he 
rides  in  state,  on  velvet  cushions,  his  head  reposing,  like  a 
proud,  gigantic  pine  knot,  on  the  silken  lining  of  the  vehicle. 
He  looks  at  Donsy,  who  sobs  in  one  corner,  and  he  can  make 
no  reply  to  his  master's  raillery. 

The  small  shop  of  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith,  factor,  is  thrown 
into  a  tremendous  excitement  by  the  coach  stopping  before 
the  door,  and  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith  issues  forth,  hat  in  hand. 
He  is  anxious  to  know  the  wishes  of  his  Honor,  who,  with 
out  replying,  hands  out  Donsy,  to  his  profound  astonishment. 
Lanky  greets  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith  with  dignified  courtesy,  and 
offers  his  arm  to  lead  Donsy  in,  with  his  nose  in  the  air. 

The  Captain  now  explains  all,  with  a  profusion  of  mor- 
bleus  and  laughter.  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith  vituperates  the  par 
son  with  his  wheezy  little  voice,  and  when  Captain  Ralph 
empties  a  cup  of  rum  with  him,  Lanky's  prospects  have 
taken  a  great  stride.  That  young  gentleman  makes  the  ap 
pointment  to  go  on  a  fishing  ramble  in  the  morning,  being 
Saturday,  and  then  he  re-enters  the  coach  with  the  air  of  a 
nobleman,  his  hand  upon  his  hip,  his  hat  cocked  over  one 
eye,  his  boots  clattering,  his  sword  making  a  martial  clangor, 
as  it  bangs  against  the  door.  Captain  Ralph  regards  these 
things  with  a  smile,  and  says,  "  to  the  Raleigh." 

They  stop  before  the  tavern.     Lanky  does  not  stir. 

"  Get  out,  you  villain  !  "  says  the  Captain ;  and  Lanky 
flies  out  like  a  rocket. 

"  Oh,  Cap'n  !  "  he  observes. 

"  I  have  determined  not  to  make  my  visit,"  says  the 
Captain.  "  I  shall  return  home  on  Selim ;  you  need  not 
wait,  Lanky,  as  you  will  walk." 

And  the  Captain  twirls  his  mustaches,  with  a  laugh,  and 
enters  the  tavern.  As  for  Lanky,  he  gazes  after  him  for  a 
moment,  sighs,  pulls  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  sets  out  for 


128   THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  MS.  EXPLAINS  SUNDRY  THINGS. 

home,  with  the  philosophic  reflection  that  one  cannot  alwaya 
ride  in  chariots. 


CHAPTER     XX. 

THE  AUTHOE  OF  THE  MS.  EXPLAINS  8UNDBY  THINGS  PERTINENT 
TO  THIS  HISTORY. 

'  I  HAVE  endeavored  in  portions  of  the  preceding  pages," 
says  the  author  of  the  MS.,  "  to  trace  the  changes  of  feeling 
in  two  different  persons,  whose  fortunes  enter  largely  into 
this  narrative.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  tried  to  show  how 
Miss  Henrietta  Lee — proud,  high-spirited,  aristocratic,  and 
full  of  well-bred  contempt  for  every  one  not  unmistakably 
a  gentleman  in  blood — on  their  first  interviews,  regarded 
Captain  Ralph  Waters,  the  honest  and  high-minded  soldier 
with  great  disdain.  I  have  shown  how  she  addressed  him, 
when  she  condescended  to  do  so,  with  frigid  coldness ;  re 
sented  his  easy  sang  froid  in  her  presence,  as  a  deliberate 
offence ;  summoned  all  her  pride  of  blood  and  rank  to  sup 
press  her  audacious  admirer's  ease,  and  reduce  him  to  hia 
proper  place.  We  have  seen  her  in  repeated  interviews,  pre 
serve  this  coldness  less  and  less ;  then  complain  of  him, 
having  lost  her  silent  disdain ;  then  launch  forth  into  an 
obstinate,  hand-to-hand  encounter  of  wit  with  the  soldier, 
finally,  begin  to  be  amused  at  his  unaffected  nonchalance,  bis 
martial  and  brilliant  narratives  of  the  campaigns  he  had 
fought  almost  from  his  boyhood  to  the  present  hour;  and 
feel  some  anxiety  to  rescue  her  character  from  the  imputation 
of  preferring  the  exact  antipode  of  himself—  the  fop  ! 

"  Miss  Henrietta  Lee  was,  of  course,  not  conscrous  of 
this  gradual  change  of  feeling  towards  the  soldier.  For  not 
one  person  in  ten  thousand  ever  becomes  aware  of  his  or  her 
feelings  until  some  great  crisis  reveals  them  in  their  strength 
and  power.  It  is  a  common  adage,  that  we  do  not  know  how 
much  we  love  certain  persons  until  we  have  lost  them ;  and 
this  is  but  one  instance,  taken  from  a  thousand,  of  the  truth 
of  the  observation  I  have  made. 

"  But  if  Miss  Henrietta  Lee  was  not  aware  of  her  change 
of  feeling  toward  Captain  Ralph  Waters,  she  must  have  felt 
that  he  was  not  wholly  the  same  to  her  as  formerly  •  she 


PERTINENT    TO    THIS   HISTORY.  »2 

must  have  perceived  that  she  no  longer  looked  upon  him  with 
cold  disdain,  lordly  contempt;  that  was  no  longer  possible. 

'  She  had  prepared  herself  to  encounter  the  rude  and 
offensive  manners  of  a  mere  camp-soldier ;  a  rough  man,  who 
had  won  her  father's  friendship  by  relating  the  incidents  of 
the  war  in  Europe.  She  had  expected  to  find  simply  a  dis 
agreeable,  vulgar  individual,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  rules 
of  good  society,  who  would  stumble  over  the  chairs,  commit 
eternal  gaucheries,  make  himself  a  nuisance  and  an  eye-sore. 
All  this  she  had  expected,  and  she  was  deceived.  She  found 
a  man  who  was  quite  cognizant  of  the  rules  of  good  breed 
ing,  who  bowed  with  the  utmost  grace,  and  with  the  excep 
tion  of  his  French  expletives,  was  quite  irreproachable. 

"  She  did  not  come  to  this  conclusion  without  a  struggle 
with  herself;  and  she  tried  to  say  disdainfully,  that  all  this 
was  affected,  that  he  was  a  mere  adventurer,  that  he  was 
ashamed  of  his  origin,  and  wished  to  rise  from  the  class  in 
which  he  was  born.  But  the  disdainful  smile  disappeared, 
her  scorn  she  felt  was  unjust ;  and  Henrietta  Lee,  with  her 
proud,  wealthy  nature,  never  committed  a  deliberate  injustice. 
She  was  above  that,  and  this  sincerity  of  character  now  made 
her  confess  to  herself  that  in  imagining  Captain  Waters  a 
mere  adventurer,  ashamed  of  his  origin,  and  seeking  to  con 
ceal  it,  she  was  mistaken.  The  Captain  had  a  score  of  times 
taken  occasion  to  say  that  he  was  the  son  of  a  fisherman, 
with  the  most  unaffected  calmness ;  that  he  was  proud  of  his 
father  and  his  brother ;  and  it  was  very  plain  that  this  pride 
and  affection  was  not  put  on  for  the  nonce,  or  it  would  never 
have  been  spoken  of  so  often.  No;  Captain  Waters  was 
not  ashamed  of  his  lineage  ;  he  had  not  been  bred  up  in  the 
midst  of  the  singularly  graded  society  of  the  colony ;  he 
&lt  no  inferiority  in  the  presence  of  any  one,  that  was  plain. 
The  commander  over  him  in  battle  was  his  superior — not  the 
citizen  who  wore  finer  clothes,  and  had  a  finer  ancestry. 
What  Charles  Waters  arrived  at  by  logic,  the  Captain  came 
to  by  pure  instinct,  and  the  instinct  had  been  stronger  than 
the  logic.  No  ;  Captain  Waters  was  not  desirous  to  hide  hia 
low  birth  ;  he  did  not  apologize  for  it,  he  did  not  regret  it 
he  regarded  it  as  a  circumstance  in  his  life  of  small  impor 
tance,  as  long  as  he  was  the  fearless  soldier,  the  honest  heart 
All  this  was  plain  to  Henrietta, 
20 


130   THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  MS.  EXPLAINS  SUNDRY  THINGS 

"  Now,  when  a  proud  nature  finds  that  it  has  done  in« 
justice,  the  first  result  is  a  strong  reaction  in  opposition 
to  the  former  sentiment.  The  proud,  brilliant  mind  of 
Henrietta  Lee  had  never  stooped  to  any  petty  meanness,  and 
those  who  suffered  from  her  wit  and  liked  her  least,  confessed 
that  she  had  never  been  guilty  of  narrow  and  illiberal 
things,  even.  Her  aristocratic  feeling  was  a  portion  of  her 
blood — uncontrollable ;  and  this  she  did  not  regard  as  wrong 
at  all.  So  when  she  found  that  she  had  done  Captain 
Waters  injustice  she  began  to  like  him,  and  to  laugh  in 
private  over  his  amusing  stories ;  and  with  the  natural  feel 
ing  of  her  sex,  to  admire  those  martial  traits  of  the  soldier 
which  she  had  quarrelled  with. 

"  We  need  not  proceed  at  present  to  trace  the  change  of 
sentiment  farther ;  in  future  pages  of  this  history  the  reader 
will  perceive  what  further  attended  this  young  lady's  re 
vulsion  of  feeling  toward  her  admirer.  I  shall  proceed  now 
to  speak  of  my  respected  ancestor  Champ  Emngham,  Esq., 
and  his  feelings  briefly. 

"  I  need  not  repeat  the  description  of  his  own  feelings 
given  by  himself  to  his  friend  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  had  one 
not  listened  to  that  monologue,  I  suppose  none  could  fail  to 
have  conceived  a  very  accurate  idea  of  this  gentleman's  char 
acter  from  the  former  portion  of  the  history.  Let  me  then 
pass  at  once  to  the  first  interview  between  himself  and  Miss 
Clare  Lee,  the  tender  and  sincere  woman,  whom  I  have  given 
so  little  space  to  in  this  narrative.  His  heart  had  experienced 
a  deeper  emotion  in  that  interview  than  he  chose  to  confess  ; 
he  was  not  perfectly  calm,  though  his  long  apathy  had  given 
him  the  habit  of  suppressing  every  emotion  with  a  rod  of 
iron.  No ;  her  soft,  tender  face,  so  full  of  former  happiness, 
and  eloquent  of  his  far  golden  youth,  shone  on  him  like  a 
bright  harvest  moon — full  of  peace,  and  joy,  and  love.  His 
dull  blood  had  leaped,  his  stagnant  heart  had  throbbed ; 
once  more  he  experienced  a  sensation  of  that  pure,  delicate, 
tender  joy,  which  is  never  found  in  fiery,  devouring  passions. 
He  felt  that  his  mad  infatuation  had  scarcely  diminished 
that  sentiment  shrined  far  back  in  the  recesses  of  his  heart ; 
that  the  flame  had  not  reached  those  depths ;  the  MS.  re 
cording  his  bright  youth  had  not  been  burned  ;  all  then  was 
still  the  same  :  as  clear  as  ever. 


PERTINENT    TO    THIS   HISTORY.  13i 

"  Still  he  determined  to  avoid  Clare  sedulously,  and  for  a 
double  reason  : — first  shame,  and  then  fear.  Not  that  my 
worthy  ancestor  was  really  ashamed  of  his  infatuation — 
ashamed  in  the  ordinary  meaning  of  the  term.  I  am  afraid 
that  his  headstrong  nature  seldom  felt  the  sentiment.  But 
he  experienced  a  rational  doubt  of  his  reception  at  River- 
head  by  the  young  girl  whose  heart  he  had  so  cruelly  tried ; 
whose  pure,  tender  love,  he  had  slighted  for  a  wild  passion. 
He  did  not  fancy  playing  the  repentant — striking  his  breast 
and  crying  mea  culpd  !  pity !  This  was  quite  out  of  the 
question  in  the  present  instance  with  Mr.  Effingham,  and  to 
avoid  all  disagreeable  scenes,  he  resolved  to  continue  in 
Virginia  the  resolution  he  had  adopted  on  the  Continent ; 
here  as  there,  he  would  avoid  all  women. 

"  I  have  said  that  my  respected  ancestor's  second 
sentiment  was  fear — that  is  fear  of  himself.  After  that 
volcano-like  explosion,  he  dreaded  his  own  passions ;  he  was 
perfectly  well  convinced  that  when  aroused,  these  passions 
were  as  fetterless  as  the  wind ;  and  he  indulged,  what  seems 
to  me  looking  back  now  on  his  character,  a  rational  fear  of 
his  feelings. 

"  But  Mr.  Hamilton  had  by  a  word  on  the  day  of  the 
fox-huut,  persuaded  him  to  conquer  both  these  sentiments, 
and  enter.  Then  he  felt  that  his  resolution  was  not  very 
strong  ;  that  the  very  strength  of  feeling  which  caused  him 
to  make  those  precautionary  resolutions,  now  led  him  to  break 
them  at  a  single  word. 

"  He  spent  the  day  ;  and  all  that  day  the  feeling  that  he 
loved  her  still  was  gaining  ground  :  he  dwelt  on  her  tender 
face  with  pensive,  drooping  eyes,  the  faint  weary  smile 
growing  brighter  as  he  went  over  the  soft  past ,  he  experi 
enced  a  strange  emotion  of  purity  and  gentleness  in  her 
presence;  she  seemed  to  make  the  world  bright  for  him  again, 
throwing  a  new  light  on  the  landscape  of  his  life,  like  dawn 
after  the  dim  moonlight,  or  the  white  glare  of  snow. 

"  That  song  which  he  had  heard  her  sing  so  often  in  the 
past — the  happy  golden  past,  when  he  was  young  and  loved 
her  so  tenderly — came  finally  to  complete  his  change  of 
feeling,  and  he  knew  that  he  loved  her  more  than  ever 
— far  more  ;  more  profoundly,  truly,  tenderly.  Then,  at 
the  same  moment,  he  saw  her  giving  kind  glances  to  hi> 


132  HOW    THE    ClLONY   OF    VIRGINIA 

friend,  and  all  of  these  glances  pierced  his  soul ;  but  his 
face  did  not  move,  only  the  shadow  returned.  He  went  as 
quietly  as  he  came,  speaking  with  his  eyes  only,  and  those 
eyes  asked  nothing.  When  he  lost  sight  of  her  his  head 
drooped. 

"  The  evening  at  the  hall  was  a  great  trial ;  it  was  plain 
that  she  and  Hamilton  were  little  less  than  lovers — she  was 
so  kind — he  so  devotedly  attentive.  He  spoke  to  her  but 
once  or  twice,  and  then  calmly  and  quietly  ;  and,  as  we  have 
seen,  pressed  Mr.  Hamilton's  hand  with  a  warmth  which 
indicated  something  more  than  regret  at  parting.  Thus  he 
laid  no  claim  to  her  heart — he  felt  it  was  gone  from  him. 
But  he  could  dream  of  her;  and  how  he  dreamt  I  have 
related. 

"  These  few  words  of  comment  will  enable  the  reader  to 
comprehend  more  easily  the  events  which  follow.  Though 
preferring  to  write  down  what  the  characters  of  my  history 
said  to  each  other,  from  the  conviction  that  their  traits  are 
most  easily  developed  by  themselves,  I  have  thought  fit  to 
pause  here,  to  speak  thus  briefly  in  my  own  person  of  Captain 
Waters,  and  my  respected  ancestor.  I  now  proceed." 


CHAPTER  XXL 

HOW  THE  WHOLE  COLONY  OP  VIEQINIA  WENT  TO  THE  JAMESTOWN 
EACES,  AND  WHAT  ENSUED. 

THE  races  ! 

That  word  always  produces  a  strong  effect  upon  men 
in  the  South ;  and  w  hen  the  day  fixed  upon  for  the  James 
town  races  comes,  the  country  is  alive  for  miles  around  with 
persons  of  all  classes  and  descriptions. 

As  the  hour  of  noon  approaches,  the  ground  swarms 
with  every  species  of  the  genus  homo;  Williamsburg  and 
the  seafaring  village  of  Jamestown  turn  out  en  masse,  and 
leave  all  occupations  for  the  exciting  turf. 

As  the  day  draws  on  the  crowd  becomes  more  dense. 
The  splendid  chariots  of  the  gentry  roll  up  to  the  stand; 
and  group  themselves  around  it,  in  a  position  to  overlook 


WENT   TO    THE    JAMESTC.WN    RACES.  135 

the  race-course,  and  through  the  wide  windows  are  seen  the 
sparkling  eyes  and  powdered  locks,  and  diamonds  and  gay 
silk  and  velvet  dresses  of  those  fair  dames  who  lent  such 
richness  and  picturesque  beauty  to  the  old  days  dead  now  so 
long  ago  in  the  far  past.  The  fine  looking  old  planters  too 
are  decked  in  thoir  holiday  suits,  their  powdered  hair  is  tied 
into  queues  behind  with  neat  black  ribbon,  and  they  descend 
and  mingle  with  their  neighbors,  and  discuss  the  coming 
festival. 

Gay  youths,  in  rich  brilliant  dresses,  caracole  up  to  the 
carriages  on  fiery  steeds,  to  display  their  horsemanship,  and 
exchange  compliments  with  their  friends,  and  make  pretty 
speeches,  which  are  received  by  the  bright-eyed  damsels 
with  little  ogles,  and  flirts  of  their  variegated  fans,  and  rap 
turous  delight. 

Meanwhile  the  crowd  grows  each  moment,  as  the  flood 
pours  in  from  the  north,  the  south,  the  east,  the  west — from 
every  point  of  the  compass,  and  in  every  species  of  vehicle. 
There  are  gay  parties  of  the  yeomen  and  their  wives  and 
daughters,  in  carryalls  and  wagons  filled  with  straw,  upon 
which  chairs  are  placed  :  there  are  rollicking  fast  men — if 
we  may  use  the  word  becoming  customary  in  our  own  day — 
who  whirl  in,  in  their  curricles  :  there  are  barouches  and 
chairs,  spring  wagons  and  carts,  all  full,  approaching  in 
every  way  from  a  sober  walk  to  a  furious  headlong  dash,  all 
"  going  to  the  races."  There  are  horsemen  who  lean  for 
ward,  horsemen  who  lean  back ;  furious,  excited  horsemen, 
urging  their  steeds  with  whip  and  spur ;  cool,  quiet  horsemen, 
who  ride  erect  and  slowly :  there  are,  besides,  pedestrians 
of  every  class  and  appearance,  old  and  young,  male  and  female, 
black  and  white — all  going  to  the  races. 

These  latter  gather  around  the  booths  erected  by  the  stand 
and  discuss  the  various  mixtures  of  Jamaica  there  displayed 
in  tempting  array  ;  and  near  by,  all  varieties  of  edibles  are 
set  out,  and  attacked.  Ale  foams ;  healths  (and  individuals) 
are  drunk ;  bets  are  made. 

The  vulgar  blacklegs,  if  we  may  speak  so  disrespectfully 
of  that  large  and  influential  class,  congregate  temporarily 
around  the  tables  where  a  dozen  games  of  chance  are  ex 
hibited ;  and  here  they  amuse  themselves  while  awaiting 
the  great  supreme  gambling  of  the  race. 


i34  HOW    THE    COLONY    OF    VIRGINIA 

The  crowd  is  all  in  a  buzz,  which  at  times  rises  to  a 
shout ;  it  undulates  like  a  stormy  sea ;  it  rolls  and  mur 
murs,  and  rumbles  and  laughs — in  a  word,  it  has  come  to 
see  the  races. 

The  hour  at  last  arrives,  and  a  horn  sounding  from  the. 
judges'  stand,  the  horses  are  led  out  in  their  blankets  and 
head  coverings,  and  walked  up  and  down  before  the  crowd 
by  their  trainers,  who  are  for  the  most  part  old  gray-headed 
negroes,  born  and  raised,  to  the  best  of  th^ir  recollection, 
on  the  turf.  The  riders  are  noble  scions  of  the  same  an 
cient  stock,  and  average  three  feet  and  a  half  in  height,  and 
twenty  pounds  in  weight.  They  are  clad  in  ornamental  gar 
ments ;  wear  little  close-fitting  caps,  and  while  they  are 
waiting,  sit  huddled  up  in  the  grass,  sucking  their  thumbs, 
and  talking  confidentially  about  "  them  there  hosses." 

Let  us  look  at  the  objects  of  their  attention ;  they  are 
well  worth  it. 

Mr.  Howard  enters  the  bay  horse  Sir  Archy,  out  of 
Flying  Dick,  by  Roderick. 

Mr.  James  enters  Fair  Anna,  a  white  mare,  dam  Vir 
ginia,  sire  Belgrave. 

Captain  Waters  enters  the  Arabian  horse  Selim,  de 
scended  in  a  direct  line,  he  is  informed,  from  Al-borak,  who 
carried  the  prophet  Mahomet  up  to  heaven — though  this  pedi 
gree  is  not  vouched  for.  The  said  pedigree  is  open  to  the 
inspection  of  all  comers.  NOTE — That  it  is  written  in 
Arabic. 

There  are  other  entries,  but  not  much  attention  is  paid 
to  them.  The  race  will  be  between  Sir  Archy  and  Fair 
Anna,  and  perhaps  the  outlandish  horse  will  not  be  "  dis 
tanced." 

The  horses  are  stripped,  and  the  excited  spectators 
gather  round  them  and  commence  betting.  Two  to  one  is 
offered  on  Sir  Archy ;  he  takes  every  eye ;  he  is  a  noble 
animal.  His  training  has  been  excessive,  and  the  sinews 
web  his  limbs  like  cords  of  steel  woven  into  network ;  he 
strides  like  a  giant,  his  eyes  blaze,  he  bites  at  his  groom. 

Fair  Anna  is  a  beautiful  little  creature,  as  slender  and 
graceful  as  a  deer,  with  a  coat  of  milky  whiteness ;  and  she 
steps  daintily,  like  -a  kitten.  She  is  known,  however,  and 
those  who  have  seen  her  run,  know  that  she  has  extraordi 
nary  speed  and  bottom. 


WENT   TO    THE   JAMESTOWN    RACES.  35 

The  Arabian  horse  is  unknown,  and  offers  few  indica 
tions  of  either  speed  or  strength.  The  ladies  say  he  is 
lovely,  however,  and  the  old  jockeys  scan  the  animal  atten 
tively,  and  discover  some  unusual  points. 

But  the  ladies,  for  the  most  part,  admire  the  white  mare 
above  all ;  and  the  young  damsels  and  gentlemen  of  youth 
ful  years  request  their  parents  to  furnish  them  with  some 
guineas  to  bet  upon  the  lovely  animal.  The  old  planters 
having  for  the  most  part  staked  large  sums  on  Sir  Archy 
decline  this  request  ^ith  petulance.  Among  these  juveniles, 
seized  with  the  gambling  mania,  are  Master  Willie  Emngham 
and  Mr.  Tommy  Alston,  who  espouse  different  sides.  Tommy 
admires  fair  Anna,  Will,  Sir  Archy.  Having  no  money  be 
yond  a  crown  or  so,  they  content  themselves  with  staking 
that,  and  Kate  is  called  upon  to  hold  the  stakes,  which  she 
does  with  great  good  nature. 

"  Ah  !  you  are  betting,  I  think,  petite  ma'mselle  1 "  says 
a  sonorous  and  good-humoured  voice. 

Kate  raises  her  eyes,  and  recognizes  Captain  Ralph,  who 
rides  his  roan.  She  smiles,  for  the  kindly  honest  voice  of 
the  soldier  pleases  her,  and  says  : 

"  Oh  no,  sir  1  I  was  just  holding  stakes  for  Willie  and 
Mr.  Alston." 

"  Mr.  Alston  ?     Oh — 'pardonnez :  I  understand." 

And  the  Captain  laughs,  and  asks  how  the  betting  goes. 

"  Two  to  one  on  Sir  Archy,"  says  Kate  quite  easily. 

"  And  on  Seliin?" 

"  I'm  sure  he's  the  prettiest,  and  I  know  he'll  win,  sir," 
says  Kate,  "  but  the  bet  is  on  Sir  Archy  and  Fair  Anna." 

The  Captain  laughs,  and  rides  on :  he  draws  up  by  Mr. 
Lee's  chariot. 

"  Ah  good-day,  my  dear  mesdames,"  he  says,  "  how  is 
the  betting,  pray  ? 

"  I  have  bet  largely  against  Selim,  sir,"  saya  Henrietta, 
"  I  know  he'll  be  beaten." 

"  Beaten,  say  you,  my  dear  madam  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"By  what— rods?" 

"  No,  sir,  by  Sir  Archy." 

"Ah,  you  think  so?"  says  the  Captain,  pleasantly 
"  Well,  I  do  not  agree  with  you,  morbleu  1 " 


36  HOW    THE    C.LONY   OP   VIRGINIA 

"  He's  found  his  match,"  says  Henrietta,  with  a  mifr 
ehievous  sparkle  of  her  brilliant  eye. 

"So  have  I,"  replies  the  Captain,  with  a  look  which 
makes  Miss  Henrietta  blush. 

She  endeavors  to  rally. 

"  What  will  you  bet,  sir?" 

"  I  ?  I  will  bet  you  a  thousand  pounds  to  a  penny,  that 
Selim  wins  the  race.  See  how  infatuated  I  am  1  What  say 
you,  morbleu  1  madam  ?  " 

Henrietta  smiles  satirically. 

"  Suppose  we  wager  something  more  valuable,  sir  "  she 
says,  "  something  rare  ! " 

"  What  shall  it  be  ?  " 

"  This  ringlet  against  one  of  your  morbleus  !  " 

The  Captain  relishes  this  pleasantry  and  laughs. 

"  Ah,  madam  1 "  he  says,  "  the  stakes  are  not  even  :  sup 
pose  I  stake  the  contents  of  this  box,  against  the  said  ringlet  " 

And  the  soldier  draws  a  morocco  case  from  his  bosom 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  says  Henrietta. 

"  I  deny  your  right  to  ask,"  laughs  the  soldier. 

"  Unjust ! "  says  Henrietta. 

"Why, 'faith?" 

"  Because,  sir,  you  know  what  my  stake  is — while  I  do 
not  know  yours." 

"  How  do  I  know  what  it  is  you  offer  to  bet,  madam  ?  " 

"Why  it  is  this  ringlet,  sir." 

And  Henrietta  twines  around  her  beautiful  jewelled  hand 
a  glossy  curl  which  reposes  on  her  cheek. 

Captain  Ralph  laughs,  and  replies : 

"  Ma  foi !  I  know  it  is :  but  I  maintain  that  I  am  not 
enlightened  yet : — the  said  ringlet  may  be  a  wig,  my  dear 
madam." 

Henrietta  pouts  :  Clare  smiles. 

"  I  assure  you,  sir,  that  I  never  wear  wigs,"  says  the 
lady. 

"  Well,  madam,  then  I  will,  for  the  sake  of  argument- 
no,  for  the  sake  of  betting,  admit  the  reality  of  that  exqui 
site  curl;  and  yet  I  must  be  permitted  to  make  a  request." 

"What  is  that,  sir?" 

"  That  you  will  let  Miss  Clare  hold  my  stake,  and  prom 
ise  not  to  open  it,  or  seek  to  find  what  it  is." 


WENT   TO   THE   JAMESTOWN    RACES  137 

Hem  ietta  takes  the  morocco  case,  and  looks  at  it  curious- 
iy,  hesitating. 

"  Well,"  says  the  Captain,  laughing,  "  I  see  our  wager  ia 
at  an  end,  pardy  1  You  refuse  my  conditions." 

"  No,  sir,  I  accept." 

And  Henrietta  hands  the  case  to  Clare. 

"  I  suppose  I  may  retain  the  curl  until  it  is  won — if  that 
over  happens,  monsieur?"  she  says,  satirically. 

"  Oui !  oui!"  responds  the  soldier,  laughing,  "assured 
ly,  and  now  what  is  our  bet,  pray  ?  I  see  the  judges  about 
to  give  the  signal  to  prepare  the  horses." 

"  I  bet,"  said  Henrietta,  "  that  Sir  Archy  or  Fair  Anna 
will  beat  Selim." 

"The  first  heat?" 

"  As  you  choose,  sir." 

"  Well,"  says  Captain  Ralph,  "  I  close.  Remember 
Ma'mselle  Clare,"  he  adds  to  her  companion,  "  that  Madam 
Henriette  and  myself  have  laid  a  wager  of  that  morocco  case 
and  its  contents,  against  a  curl  of  her  hair,  that  Sir  Archy 
beats  my  Arabian  the  first  heat.  Do  not  forget  I " 

"  The  first  heat,  sir?"  asks  Clare,  in  her  mild  voice. 

"  Yes,"  replies  the  Captain,  "  there  will  be  three  I  am 
informed — three  of  two  miles  each.  The  horse  which  wins 
two  out  of  these  three  heats,  of  course  beats  the  field." 

Clare  nods. 

"  Prepare  the  horses  1 "  comes  from  the  judges'  stand  op 
posite. 

Captain  Ralph  leaves  the  ladies  with  a  gallant  bow,  and 
pushes  his  way  through  the  swaying  and  excited  crowd,  to 
ward  the  spot  where  the  animals  are  being  saddled. 

A  tremendous  hurly-burly  reigns  there ;  men  of  all 
classes,  boys,  negroes,  gentlemen,  indented  servants — all  are 
betting  with  intense  excitement.  The  dignified  grooms  en 
deavor  to  keep  back  the  crowd : — the  owners  of  the  horses 
give  their  orders  to  the  microscopic  monkeys  who  are  to  ride. 
Mr.  Howard,  a  fine-looking,  somewhat  supercilious  gentle 
man,  says  to  his  rider  : 

"  Jake,  trail  on  a  tight  rein  the  first  mile,  press  gradual 
ly  on  the  second,  and  win  the  heat  by  half  a  length  :  if  you 
are  an  inch  before  that,  I'll  murder  you  rou  villain." 


139  HOW   TftE    COLONY   OP    VIRGINIA 

"  Yes,  massa,"  replies  Jake,  with  a  satisfied  smile,  and 
great  cheerfulness.  "  I  gwine  to  do  dat  very  ting,  /  is." 

Mr.  James  is  a  solemn-looking  Napoleon  of  the  turf,  and 
impresses  upon  his  rider  a  whole  volume  of  instructions, 
with  gravity,  and  a  serious  and  affecting  earnestness. 

"  Feel  Sir  Archy  from  the  word  proceed,"  he  says,  "  and 
if  it  appears  from  a  calm  review  of  all  the  circumstances, 
that  the  mare  has  got  the  heels  of  him,  come  in  half  a  head 
before  him.  If  the  mare  fails  to  get  her  speed  in  the  first 
brush,  refrain  from  pushing  her : — it  is  a  matter  of  no  im 
portance  to  win  this  the  first  heat — but  be  sure  to  come  to 
me  before  the  second." 

"  Yes,  my  massa." 

Captain  Ralph  says  to  his  rider : 

"  (rive  me  your  whip  : — good  !  now  take  off  those  spurs. 
Very  well :  now  remember  to  keep  silent — do  not  speak  to 
your  horse,  do  not  tug  at  his  rein :  simply  keep  him  in  the 
track,  and  aim  to  keep  the  inside.  Do  not  trouble  yourself 
to  win  the  heat — the  rest  I  think  is  safe.  Remember  to  lean 
far  forward,  and  if  there  is  danger  of  being  distanced,  I  per 
mit  you  to  whistle  in  the  horse's  ears.  Again,  do  not  push 
to  win  this  heat.  Go  1 " 

The  riders  are  raised  by  one  leg  into  the  saddles :  they 
gather  up  the  reins :  the  drum  taps :  they  are  off  like  light 
ning. 

The  course  is  a  mile  in  circumference,  and  they  go  round 
it  before  the  excited  crowd  can  look  at  them  a  dozen  times. 
They  whirl  past  the  stand,  and  push  on  again. 

Sir  Archy  leads  :  Fair  Anna  trails  on  a  hard  rein :  the 
Arabian  is  two  lengths  behind :  but  he  is  not  running. 

They  thunder  up  the  quarter  stretch :  Sir  Archy  is 
bounding,  like  some  diabolical  monster,  far  before  his  com 
panions,  spite  of  his  owner's  cries :  the  Arabian  has  come  up 
and  locks  the  mare  :  they  run  neck  and  neck.  Sir  Archy 
whirls  past  the  stand,  and  wins  the  heat  by  a  hundred  yards. 
The  immense  crowd  utters  a  shout  which  shakes  the  sur 
rounding  forest. 

The  owner  of  Sir  Archy  looks  with  ominous  meaning  at 
Jake : — that  youth  begins  to  tremble,  and  says  that  he 
couldn*t  hold  him.  Mr.  Howard  turns  to  the  horse.  Sir 
Archy's  eyes  glare — he  does  not  sweat  at  all :  his  coat  is 


WENT   TO    THE   JAMESTOWN    RACES.  1 30 

severed  with  a  dry  dusty  oil,  and  he  pants  dreadfully :  he  is 
over-trained. 

Fair  Anna  is  as  wet  as  if  she  had  just  swam  a  river :  the 
moisture  streams  from  her :  she  looks  like  an  ivory  statue 
in  a  fountain.  The  grooms  rake  the  sweat  off  in  foamy 
floods  :  she  breathes  regularly. 

The  Arabian's  coat  is  merely  glossier :  an  imperceptible 
moisture  bathes  it,  and  he  is  quite  still :  he  does  not  pant : 
his  breathing  is  calm. 

The  horses  are  again  enveloped  in  their  hoods  and 
blankets.  Captain  Ralph  returns  to  the  Riverhead  carriage. 

"Parbleu!  you've  won,  my  dear  madam  1"  he  says, 
"  behold,  here  I  am  very  unhappy  !  " 

Henrietta  does  not  quarrel  this  time  with  his  French, 
but  laughs  triumphantly. 

"  A  favor  1 "  continues  the  unfortunate  Captain,  with  a 
melancholy  air. 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  "  cries  Henrietta. 

"  I  ask  that  you  will  not  open  the  morocco  case  which — 
miserable ! — I  have  lost,  until  you  return  home.  Is  it  very 
hard?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir ;  and  I  promise  without  hesitation.  Give 
it  to  me,  Clare." 

And  she  takes  the  case,  puts  it  in  her  muff,  and  smiles. 

"  Any  more  betting,  sir  ?  "  she  says,  satirically. 

"Who,  I?' 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Assuredly  !  "  says  the  Captain  ; "  do  not  think,  chert 
ma'm'selle,  that  I  am  very  much  cast  down.  I  am  so  far 
from  that,  I  assure  you,  that  I  am  ready  to  take  the  field 
again." 

"  Well,  sir." 

"  Then  you  will  bet  again,  madam  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed." 

'<  Bien  !  I  now  stake  all  that  is  left  me  in  the  world— 
though  not  quite.  I  stake  my  horse,  S-elim,  against  the  curl 
and  the  pair  of  gloves  you  wear,  with  the  knot  of  ribbons  at 
your  girdle  thrown  in — all  upon  the  final  issue." 

Henrietta  blushes;  for,  howover  common  such  gallant 
proposals  were  at  that  day,  she  cannot  misunderstand  the 
meaning  of  the  soldier's  glance,  and  reddens  beneath  it. 


14D  HOW   THE   COLONY    OF   VIRGINIA 


would  be  unfair,  sir,"  she  says. 

"  Not  so,  my  dear  madam  ;  for  are  you  not  Bure  i* 
lose  ?  " 

"To  lose?" 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  am  sure  to  win." 

"  Bah  !  you  ladies  have  such  a  delicious  little  confidence 
in  the  things  you  patronize,  that  it  is  really  astonishing. 
You  think  Sir  Archy  will  beat  Selim  ?  Pshaw  !  you  know 
nothing  about  it." 

This  piques  madam  Henrietta,  and  she  smiles  satirically 
again  as  she  says  : 

"  Well,  sir,  I  do  not  want  your  pretty  horse  —  but  if  you 
insist,  why,  I  cannot  retreat.  I  shall,  at  least,  have  the 
pleasure  of  returning  him  to  his  master." 

The  Captain  shakes  his  head. 

"  A  bet  upon  such  terms,  is  no  bet  at  all,  my  dearest 
madam,"  he  says,  "for,  I  assure  you,  if  I  win,  you  will  return 
home  curl-less,  glove-less,  and  ribbon-less.  All  is  fair  in  war 
—  and  love." 

With  which  words,  Captain  Ralph  darts  a  martial  ogle 
at  his  companion.  This  piques  her  more  than  ever. 

"  Well,  sir,"  she  replies,  "  if  you  are  determined,  have 
your  desire." 

"  Good!"  cries  the  captain,  "  we  are  just  in  time.  There 
is  the  horse.  Remember  now,  Ma'm'selle  Glare,  that  we 
have  lain  a  wager  on  the  final  issue.  I  bet  Selim  against  a 
curl,  a  pair  of  gloves,  and  a  piece  of  ribbon,  that  the 
Arabian  beats  the  field.  Miss  Henrietta,  that  he  will  not. 
Voici,  I  do  not  ask  you  to  hold  my  stakes,"  adds  the  Cap 
tain  with  a  laugh  as  he  bows,  "  for  I  think  that  will  be  as 
much  as  his  rider  will  be  able  to  do  !  " 

And,  with  another  gallant  bo^v,  the  Captain  rides  away 
toward  the  horses. 

The  boys  are  again  instructed  much  after  the  same 
fashion  :  the  signal  is  given  in  the  midst  of  breathless  sus 
pense,  and  the  horses  dart  from  their  places. 

They  dart  around,  Sir  Archy  again  leading  :  but  this 
position  he  does  not  hold  throughout  the  firslflhile  :  he  grad 
ually  falls  behind  and  when  they  pass  the  winning-post  he  is 


WENT   TO   THE   JAMESTOWN    RACES.  141 

fifty  yards  in  the  rear.  His  owner  tears  his  hair,  but  tho 
crowd  do  not  see  him — they  flush  and  shout. 

The  second  mile  is  between  Fair  Anna  and  the  Arabian, 
and  they  lock  in  the  middle  of  it :  but  the  Arabian  gradually 
takes  the  lead,  and  when  they  flash  up  to  the  stand  he  is  ten 
yards  ahead.  Sir  Archy  is  distanced  and  withdrawn. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  excitement  of  the 
crowd  : — the  tremendous  effect  produced  upon  them  by  this 
reversal  of  all  their  hopes  and  expectations.  They  roll 
about  like  waves,  they  shout,  they  curse,  they  rumble  and 
groan  like  a  stormy  sea. 

The  horses  are  the  objects  of  every  one's  attention. 
Their  condition  will  go  far  to  indicate  the  final  result — and 
Sir  Archy  being  led  away  and  withdrawn,  the  race  now  will 
be  between  Fair  Anna  and  the  Arabian. 

Mr.  James  looks  more  solemn  than  ever,  and  all  eyes  are 
turned  upon  him.  Captain  Waters  is  not  visible — he  is 
yonder,  conversing  with  the  ladies. 

But  the  horses  !  Fair  Anna  pants  and  breathes  heavily  . 
her  coat  is  drenched  more  completely  than  before  with  per 
spiration  ;  her  mouth  foams  :  she  tosses  her  head  :  when  the 
rake  is  applied  to  her  back  a  shower  falls. 

The  Arabian  is  wet  all  over  too :  but  he  breathes  regu 
larly  :  his  eye  is  bright  and  his  head  calm.  He  has  com 
menced  running.  The  first  intention  of  Mr.  James  is  to  give 
up  the  race,  but  his  pride  will  not  let  him.  He  utters  an 
oath,  and  gives  renewed  instructions  to  his  rider.  These 
instructions  are  to  whip  and  spur — to  take  the  lead  and  keep 
it,  from  the  start. 

The  moment  for  the  final  struggle  arrives,  and  Captain 
Ralph  merely  says,  "  Rein  free  !  " 

The  boys  mount — the  crowd  opens ;  the  drum  taps  and 
the  animals  are  off  like  lightning. 

Fair  Anna  feels  that  all  her  previous  reputation  is  at 
stake,  and  flies  like  a  deer.  She  passes  around  the  first  mile 
like  a  flash  of  white  light :  but  the  Arabian  is  beside  her. 
For  a  quarter  of  a  mile  thereafter  they  run  neck  and  neck— 
the  rider  of  Fair  Anna  lashes  and  spurs  desperately. 

They  come  up  to  the  quarter-stretch  in  the  last  mile 
at  supernatural  speed  : — the  spectators  rise  on  their  toes  and 
shout : — two  shadows  pass  them  like  the  shadows  of  darting 


142  HOW   THE    COLONY   OF   VIRGINIA,    ETC. 

hawks : — the  mare  barely  saves  her  distance  and  the  Arabian 
has  triumphed. 

If  we  could  not  describe  the  excitement  after  the  second 
heat,  what  possibility  is  there  that  we  could  convey  an  idea 
of  the  raging  and  surging  pandemonium  which  the  crowd  now 
eame  to  resemble  ?  Furious  cries — shouts — curses — ap 
plause — laughter — and  the  rattle  of  coin  leaving  unwilling 
hands  are  some  of  the  sounds.  But  here  we  must  give  up  : — 
as  no  mere  pen  can  describe  the  raging  of  a  great  mass  of 
water  lashed  by  an  angry  wind  into  foam  and  whistling  spray 
and  muttering  waves,  which  rise  and  fall  and  crash  incessant 
ly,  so  we  cannot  trace  the  outline  of  the  wildly-excited 
crowd. 

The  Captain  wipes  Selim's  neck  with  his  white  handker 
chief,  and  the  panting  animal  raises  his  head  and  whinnies. 

"  See,  gentlemen  I  "  says  the  soldier  laughing,  while  Mr. 
Howard  scowls  proudly  at  him,  "  Morbleu !  my  horse  is 
merely  a  little  warm — just  come  to  his  speed  1  Why  did  I 
not  stake  my  whole  fortune  on  him  !  " 

And  uttering  this  preposterous  jest,  the  soldier  caresses 
Selim,  who  manifests  much  pleasure  thereat ;  and  sending 
him  back  to  the  stable,  mounts  his  horse  and  goes  and  claims 
his  wager  from  the  mortified  Henrietta.  She  takes  off  the 
gloves  and  hands  them  to  him,  with  the  ribbon  knot,  which 
she  detached  from  her  girdle  with  a  jerk  betraying  no  slight 
ill-humor. 

"  There,  sir  !  at  least  I  am  honest,  and  pay  my  just 
debts  1  "  she  says  :  "  but  please  leave  my  curL" 

The  Captain  folds  up  the  gloves,  wraps  them  in  the 
ribbon,  and  places  the  whole  in  the  pocket  of  his  surtout. 

"  Leave  the  curl  ?  "  he  says,  laughing,  "Oh,  of  course  1 
But  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Ma'm'selle  Henrietta,  that  my 
liberality  is  only  for  the  moment.  I  shall  claim  it  some  day 
or  other.  All  is  fair  in  war — and  love  1 " 

With  which  words  the  Captain  laughs  louder  than  he  was 
ever  known  to  laugh  before. 


SHADOWS    OF   THE   PAST:    SOMEWHAT   GROTESQUE.       143 

CHAPTER  XXH. 

SHADOWS  OF  THE  PAST:  SOMEWHAT  GROTESQUE 

THE  reader  must  have  perceived  from  the  foregoing  sketch, 
that  "  the  races"  in  Virginia  in  the  year  1 765,  did  not  ma 
terially  differ  from  those  at  the  present  day : — but  we  hav 
not  quite  finished  our  brief  and  hasty  sketch,  and  he  must  sus 
pend  his  opinion. 

Still  we  cannot  enter  into  any  thing  like  a  full  description 
of  the  ceremonies  which  took  up  the  remainder  of  the  day  : — 
just  as  we  have  been  unable  to  draw  a  full  length  portrait  of 
the  fox-hunt — the  festival  at  the  hall — and  further  back,  the 
grand  opening  day  of  the  house  of  Burgesses.  As  we  have 
said  in  former  pages,  this  narrative  is  rather  an  account  of 
the  fortunes  of  a  certain  set  of  personages,  and  the  events 
which  directly  affected  them  : — so  the  reader  must  be  content 
irith  a  very  brief  and  imperfect  sketch  of  the  amusements 
which  followed  the  triumph  of  Solim. 

The  race  was  gotten  up  by  a  number  of  subscribers,  and 
though  a  purse  was  not  suspended  from  a  pole  for  the 
victorious  jockey  to  take  down,  every  other  ceremony  was 
observed. 

These  ceremonies  were  characteristic  of  the  times,  and 
an  outline  of  them  may  amuse  the  reader. 

First,  a  number  of  stalwart  countrymen  entered  the  ring 
— the  races  between  the  remaining  horses  having  been  run 
be  it  understood — and  these  hardy  gentlemen  are  armed 
with  stout  cudgels,  which  they  brandish  around  their  heads 
in  furious  style,  much  after  the  manner  of  those  gentlemen 
who  followed,  and  flourished  the  quarter-staff  in  honor  of  that 
noble  outlaw,  Robin  Hood. 

The  victor  in  the  awful  game  is  to  have  a  hat  worth 
twenty  shillings,  and  this  hat,  of  the  cocked  species,  with  a 
handsome  feather,  is  suspended  from  a  pliant  pole  above  their 
heads. 

The  signal  is  given,  and  the  brave  combatants  close  and 
rain  down  a  shower  of  blows,  which  rattle  like  hail,  and  cause 
the  crowd  of  spectators  to  utter  shouts  of  delight.  The 


144   SHADOWS  OF  THE  PAST:  SOMEWHA1  OROTEbQDE. 

victor  is  no  other  than  our  old  friend  Townes,  who  says  aa 
he  perches  the  fine  hat  on  his  bushy  locks  : 

"  Well,  I  dusted  'em !  Their  jackets  won't  want  a 
brushin'  soon  agin  !  " 

And  he  marches  off  amid  great  applause. 

Next  comes  a  wrestling  match,  and  the  prize  of  the  vic 
tor  here  is  a  pair  of  velvet  buckles,  which  are  exhibited  to 
all.  The  contestants  enter  the  ring  and  tug  and  whirl,  and 
roll  and  fall.  Is  the  gentleman  who  is  declared  victor,  aud 
who  bears  away  the  buckles  in  triumph,  called  by  the  eupho 
nious  name  of  Junks,  or  not  ?  We  cannot  know  certainly 
as  his  name  is  not  announced  :  at  least,  he  is  an  undeniable 
water-dog,  and  will  drink  up  his  silver  ornaments,  we  may 
be  sure. 

Then  comes  a  running  match,  the  prize  for  which  is  a 
pair  of  handsome  shoes,  with  rosettes  of  ribbon ;  and  run 
ning  being  an  amusement  which  may  be  indulged  in  without 
fear  of  a  cudgel  blow  or  a  fall,  many  enter  the  lists — among 
the  rest,  Mr.  Bill  Lane,  the  artist.  He  has  practised  the 
amusement  when  parson  Tythetobacco  was  on  his  track, 
rod  in  hand,  and  to  such  perfection  that  he  now  distances  all 
competitors,  and  bears  off  the  shoes  in,  triumph. 

Another  running  match  immediately.  It  is  between 
"  twelve  youths,  twelve  years  old,  to  run  one  hundred  and 
twelve  yards,  for  a  hat  worth  twelve  shillings."  The  requi 
site  number  of  young  gentlemen  enter  the  lists  and  start  off. 
Sam  Barkerville  is  declared  victor,  his  powers  of  running 
having  been  cultivated  by  humorous  fleeing  from  his  father, 
the  sheriff,  who,  by  poetic  license,  has  been  the  imaginary 
holder  of  the  legal  writ  of  ca.  sa.  against  Barkerville,  jr. ; 
and  the  hat  worth  twelve  shillings  is  handed  to  the  young 
gentleman,  who  cocks  it  over  one  eye,  and  marches  off  amid 
applause. 

Next  the  herald  holds  up  a  handsomely  bound  volume, 
fluttering  with  ribbons  and  glowing  with  gilt,  and  proclaims 
that  the  best  singer  among  the  divine  sex  will  take  the  prize 
the  said  volume  being  a  quire  of  ballads  of  the  most  ap 
proved  description,  with  the  accompanying  musical  notes. 

A  dozen  blushing  maidens  advance  and  alternately  sing 
such  ballads  as  they  fancy,  in  little  fluttering  voices,  and 
with  downcast  eyes.  The  last  who  performs  upon  the  occa- 


SHADOWS    OF    THE    PAST:    SOMEWHAT    GROTESQUE.        145 

sioii  sings  "  The  lass  of  Richmond  hill,"  and  her  song  is 
received  with  tumultuous  applause.  She  is  unanimously 
declared  victor,  and  the  beautiful  volume  is  duly  presented 
to  Miss  Donsy  Smith,  who  receives  it  blushing,  and  retires 
into  the  throng,  who  greet  her  with  two  distinct  rounds  of 
applause,  her  bright,  cheerful  face  having  gained  this  young 
lady  a  host  of  friends. 

Then  comes  the  great  and  paramount,  contest  of  fiddlers, 
— many  more  in  number  than  those  who  shared  with  "  his 
glass  and  his  lass  "  the  liking  of  "  old  King  Cole,  that  jolly 
old  soul."  In  other  words,  the  fiddlers  are  more  in  number, 
and  they  use  instruments  which  range  from  those  of  back 
woods  construction — emitting  awful  and  terrible  discord,  like 
veritable  bulls  of  Bashan  roaring,  and  pigs  from  the  coast 
of  Guinea  squeaking — to  excellent  ones,  worn  and  discolored 
by  incessant  use,  and  full  of  melodious  power.  The  prize 
for  the  best  performer  is  a  fine  new  instrument,  direct  from 
London,  and,  in  addition  to  this,  the  victor  is  to  have  the 
privilege  of  presenting  a  pair  of  silk  stockings  to  the  "  pret 
tiest  country  maiden  on  the  ground." 

The  fiddlers  stand  "  all  in  a  row,"  and  tune  their  instru 
ments.  Then,  at  a  given  signal,  they  play,  one  after  the 
other,  such  pieces  as  they  fancy,  and  exert  their  best  powers 
to  win  the  fine  instrument.  They  roar,  they  crash,  they 
storm,  they  pour  a  whirlwind  of  rapid,  glittering  notes  upon 
the  air,  deafening  the  ears  and  setting  the  crowd  to  dancing 
almost ;  or  else  they  link  the  sweetness  and  draw  it  out  long 
and  slow,  like  golden  ribbon,  or  a  stream  of  moonlight — 
sighing,  crying,  sobbing,  laughing ; — all  this  the  violins  do, 
with  extraordinary  movement  in  the  heads  and  arms  of  the 
aoble  musicians.  The  air  is  filled  with  harmony,  the  crowd 
applauds,  the  happy  artists  hold  out  their  hands.  Nineteen 
hands  are  withdrawn  abruptly  ;  the  twentieth  receives  the 
prize,  over  which  are  hung  the  silk  stockings. 

Lanky  is  the  victor.  Lanky  no  longer  in  boots  and 
sword  and  cocked  hat,  it  is  true ;  but,  at  least,  far  more  like 
an  elegant  cavalier  than  usual.  For  a  moment,  Lanky 
blushes, — scratches  his  head ;  then  he  twitches  the  string  of 
the  violin,  and  starts  with  joy  at  its  excellence.  This  gives 
nim  courage  :  he  places  the  silk  stockings  on  the  end  of  his 
fiddle  bow  ;  they  hang  there  with  a  truth  of  outline  which 


146   SHADOWS  OF  THE  PAtT:  SOMEWHAT  GROTESQUE. 

raises  a  shout  in  the  crowd.  Lanky  steps  forward,  makes  a 
dive  at  a  portion  of  the  crowd,  throwing  his  head  at  them 
— so  to  speak ; — and  lo  !  the  silk  stockings  are  seen  to  leave 
the  end  of  the  how,  and  elegantly  repose  in  a  straddling  pos 
ture  around  the  neck  of  Miss  Donsy  Smith. 

The  crowd  shout ;  the  violins  commence  again  ;  Jamaica 
rum, — ''  to  wet  their  windpipes,"  says  the  chronicle, — is 
handed  round,  and  immediately  the  twenty  fiddlers  all  in  a 
row  begin  to  play  furiously  with  the  ardor  of  despair,  such 
a  different  tune  !  Pandemonium  is  broke  loose — a  shudder 
runs  through  the  crowd — they  fly  with  their  hands  in  their 
ears,  with  shouts  of  laughter. 

So  far,  we  have  followed  the  veracious  chronicle,  inven 
tion  having  almost  nothing  to  do  with  the  scene  we  have 
sketched ;  but  there  is  one  gentleman  whose  performances 
on  the  occasion  of  the  races  we  nowhere  find  any  allusions 
made  to.  We  consider  this  unjust,  and  proceed  briefly  to 
speak  of  him. 

He  is  a  colored  gentleman ;  perhaps  as  much  as  three 
feet  and  a  half  high.  He  wears  a  long  coat,  whose  skirts 
drag  the  ground ;  he  sucks  his  thumb  occasionally ;  he  re 
joices  in  and  is  proud  of  the  name  of  Crow,  but  prefers  the 
more  modest  and  friendly  appellation,  "  Jeames."  He  has 
suffered  unmerited  misfortunes  lately,  but,  like  a  great  man, 
is  not  cast  down,  and  has  come  to  the  races  with  the  noble 
intent  to  struggle  against  the  effect  of  those  misfortunes. 
He  has  not  betted  largely,  but  no  one  has  taken  more  inter 
est  in  the  horses.  He  has  criticised  them  ;  admired  them  ; 
openly  and  candidly  extolled  them, — acknowledged  their 
good  points  with  simple  frankness.  He  has  lost  his  all — 
three  half-pence — upon  Sir  Archy,  but  is  not  cast  down 
thereat.  He  rises  above  his  bad  fortune,  and  preserves  a 
noble  equanimity. 

He  provides  himself  with  a  dilapidated  cornstalk,  and 
looks  on  while  the  cudgellers  play.  He  flourishes  the  corn 
stalk  around  his  head  gracefully,  and  when  it  hits  one  of  the 
dignified  grooms,  Mr.  Crow  does  not  disdain  to  take  to  flight 
— averse  as  he  is,  from  principle,  to  contention.  When  the 
wrestlers  commence,  he  takes  his  cornstalk  in  his  arms  and 
struggles  violently  with  it,  and  finally  trips  it  up,  and  falls 
triumphantly  on  it.  When  the  running  begins  he  drops  hi| 


SHADOWS    OF    THE    PAST  I    SOMEWHAT   GROTESQUE.       14 

cornstalk  foe,  and,  tying  his  long  skirts  before  him,  takes  to 
running  also,  uttering  enthusiastic  "  hooras  !  "  He  wins,  in 
his  own  opinion,  and  takes  off  his  ragged  straw  hat,  without 
a  rim,  worn  only  on  extraordinary  occasions,  and  politely  pre 
sents  it  to  himself,  and  places  it  proudly  on  his  head  again — • 
having  fairly  won  it.  When  the  maidens  sing,  he  assumes  a 
modest  and  bashful  air :  but  with  the  advent  of  the  fiddlers, 
his  real  representative  powers  begin  to  show  themselves.  He 
resumes  his  cornstalk :  he  breaks  it  in  two ,  he  grasps  the 
shorter  piece,  and  with  his  left  hand  inserts  it  under  his  chin. 
He  then  screws  up  the  broken  end  to  tune  it,  flourishes  in 
his  right  hand  the  lengthier  portion,  and  strikes  the  trem 
bling  lyre.  As  the  fiddlers  proceed,  he  proceeds  also — fast  or 
slow,  enthusiastically  with  jerking  head,  shaking  body,  pat 
ting  foot :  or  sentimentally,  with  his  chin  up,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  blue  sky,  with  a  die-away  expression,  his  bow  drawn 
slowly  and  rapturously  over  its  counterpart.  He  finishes 
with  the  grand  outburst  of  the  twenty  performers,  and  goes 
into  ecstasies :  his  rapture  passes  all  bounds :  he  sways,  he 
shakes,  he  bows,  he  bends,  he  executes  leaps,  he  turns  somer 
sets — still  playing.  But  comes  the  cruel  fate — he  is  not  ap 
preciated  :  he  suffers  from  the  effect  of  an  uncultivated  musi 
cal  taste  in  the  million.  Mr.  Crow  in  his  ecstasy  rolls  upon 
a  projecting  boot — the  boot  rises  up — Mr.  Crow  is  hoisted — 
he  disappears  like  a  black  snowball  swallowed  up  in  nothing 
ness.  He  is  gone — vanished — all  the  fiddles  stop. 

The  day  is  wound  up  with  a  profuse  banquet,  at  which 
the  subscribers,  their  wives  and  daughters,  refresh  themselves 
with  excellent  roast  beef  and  turkey,  and  a  variety  of  wines. 
Perhaps  a  picture  of  the  graceful  and  imposing  scene  would 
bo  worth  drawing,  but  space  fails  us : — the  eloquent  discord 
of  the  twenty  violins  still  drives  our  senses  mad.  We  leave 
the  dinner,  therefore,  to  the  reader's  imagination  :  we  leave 
him  to  fancy  the  merry  talk,  the  allusions  to  the  races,  the 
congratulations  offered  Captain  Waters,  the  praises  of  the 
fresh  little  country  beauty  Donsy  Smith,  the  toasting  of  Cap 
tain  John  Smith,  of  old  days,  who  landed  yonder  on  the 
river  when  he  came  here — that  immortal  soldier  to  whom  a 
monument  should  be  erected,  all  declare — in  whose  honor  a 
"  Jamestown  Society  "  should  be  instituted,  to  meet  yearly  in 
the  month  of  May,  and  eat  good  dinners,  fish  and  flesh  and 


148  IL    SEGRETO    PER    ESSER    FELICE. 

fowl,  in  grand  appreciation  of  his  noble  deeds.  We  leave  all 
this  to  the  reader's  imagination,  and  can  only  say  that  the 
banquet,  sub  Jove,  was  a  very  merry  and  happy  affair,  and 
that  the  birds  were  of  the  same  opinion  that  evening,  when 
the  brilliant  party,  having  fled  away,  they  picked  up  crumbs, 
and  twittered  gayly. 

And  so  the  brilliant  party  fled  away,  as  all  bright  things 
fly  far  from  us  into  the  west,  and  dead  days  of  the  past. 
Where  are  they  now,  those  stalwart  cavaliers  and  lovely 
dames  who  filled  that  former  time  with  so  much  light,  and 
merriment,  and  joyous  laughter  ?  Where  are  those  good 
coursers,  Selim,  Fair  Anna  and  Sir  Archy ;  where  are  black  and 
white,  old  and  young,  all  the  sporting  men  and  women  of  the 
swaying  crowd  ?  What  do  we  care  for  them  to-day  ?  What 
do  we  care  if  the  laces  are  moth-eaten — the  cocked  hats 
hung  up  in  the  halls  of  Lethe — the  silk  stockings  laid  away 
in  the  drawer  of  oblivion  ?  What  does  it  concern  us  that 
the  lips  no  longer  smile,  the  eyes  no  longer  flash,  the  hands 
no  longer  move,  the  faces  no  longer  laugh?  What  do  we 
care  for  all  those  happy  maiden  faces — gallant  inclinations — 
graceful  courtesies — every  thing  connected  with  the  cavaliers 
and  dames  of  that  old,  brilliant,  pompous,  honest,  worthy 
race? 

They  have  gone  away  to  the  other  world  ;  their  lips  are 
dumb ;  their  heads  have  bowed  and  their  backs  long  bent, 
and  they  have  carried  away  their  loads  and  themselves  to  the 
happy  or  the  miserable  isles.  We  care  so  little  for  them, 
that  the  poor  chronicler  who  tries  to  make  them  speak  again 
to-day  is  scarcely  heard :  but  still  it  is  his  province,  he  must 
speak  in  spite  of  all. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

IL  8EGBETO  PEE  E8SER  FELICE. 

MR.  EFFINGHAM  had  not  gone  to  the  races  for  the  same 
reason  which  had  prevented  Mr.  Ralph  Waters  from  attend 
ing  the  party  at  the  Hall.  The  Captain  felt  an  unconquerable 
repugnance  to  break  bread  under  the  roof  of  one  who  bad 


IL    8EGRETO    PER    ESSER    FELICE.  M9 

itood  in  such  a  relation  to  bis  brother  and  his  cousin  former 
ly  ;  practising,  unconsciously,  the  Arabic  custom  which  he 
had  met  with  in  his  travels  in  the  East.  In  like  manner, 
Mr.  Effingham  could  not  go  and  smile,  and  caracole,  and 
laugh  at  the  joyous  festival ;  it  was  too  diametrically  opposed 
to  his  feelings. 

We  shall  perceive  more  clearly  what  those  feelings  were 
by  entering  the  Hall  on  the  evening  succeeding  the  races,  as 
cending  the  broad  pine  stairs,  and  going  into  Mr.  Effingham's 
room. 

The  sun  wad  just  setting,  and  a  stream  of  bright  rosy  light 
streamed  through  the  tall  windows  on  the  opposite  wall,  ana 
on  the  occupant  of  the  room,  who  was  seated  in  a  tall  carved 
chair,  such  as  our  ancestors  much  affected,  with  that  singu 
lar  taste  for  the  stately,  the  grotesque,  every  thing  but  the 
comfortable,  which  they  possessed — at  least  in  regard  to  fur 
niture.  Mr.  Effingham  looked  even  paler  than  usual,  and 
his  eyelids  drooped,  the  dusky  lashes  reposing  on  his  wan 
cheek.  His  hair,  free  from  powder,  and  hanging  down  upon 
his  shoulders,  was  brilliantly  illuminated  by  the  rosy  ray,  and 
the  single  diamond  upon  his  white  hand  glittered.  That 
hand  hung  listlessly,  the  arm  reposing  upon  the  red  damask 
cushion,  and  the  other  hand  supported  his  cheek. 

As  he  mused,  gazing  at  the  bright  flood  of  sunlight,  a 
faint  smile,  like  the  reflection  of  the  moon  in  water,  dwelt 
upon  his  pale  lips  and  in  his  weary  eyes.  Then  a  sigh  es 
caped  from  the  lips,  and  the  breast  heaved. 

"  Surely  I  have  suffered  much  in  my  life,"  he  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  with  another  weary  sigh  "  The  fates  seem  to 
pursue  me  ;  they  will  not  permit  me  to  pass  any  day,  unless 
it  is  more  or  less  cloudf  d.  What  a  career  mine  has  been — 
how  forlorn,  how  full  of  sad  and  unhappy  events  leaving  so 
many  painful  recollections.  My  boyhood  was  pure  and 
happy,  and  I  laughed  at  care  as  the  child  heart  laughs  at 
every  thing ;  incredulous,  obstinately  hopeful,  I  saw  before 
me  a  long  life  of  merriment,  and  I  was  never  weary  of  the 
joy  which  flowed  into  my  heart  from  the  bright  world.  All 
things  were  couleur  de  rose.  I  had  an  open  hand  ;  a  gener 
ous,  loving  nature — I  could  have  taken  in  my  arms  the 
whole  world  from  pure  love  and  joy.  I  wandered  through 
these  forests  singing;  I  ran  gayly  over  the  breezy  hills j 


150  IL    SEGRETO    PER    ESSER    FELICE. 

I  rode  and  hunted  and  lived  an  existence  full  of  fresh 
and  vigorous  emotions  :  life  to  me  was  one  long  carnival. 
And  what  a  carnival!  What  lovely  masks — what  pictur 
esque  and  beautiful  dresses — how  many  thousands  of  flam 
beaux  seemed  to  flood  the  air  with  their  bright  flashing 
light  1  I  heard  wondrous  music  in  every  thing, — the  trees, 
the  streams,  the  very  sky  was  vocal  with  those  voicea 
which  are  ever  calling,  in  their  clear,  soft  tones  on  youth, 
and  telling  it  to  enjoy  !  enjoy  !  enjoy  1  I  loved  a  pure  heart 
then — I  thought  she  loved  me." 

Another  sigh  more  profound  escaped  from  the  pale  lips ; 
the  faint  sad  smile  again  lit  up  the  face  with  its  twilight. 

"  Oh  yes !  she  loved  me  then,"  he  continued  in  a  mur 
mur  ;  "  that  is  my  pride  and  happiness,  my  quiet  joy  now  in 
these  weary  days,  when  life  seems  wholly  exhausted  for  me 
— happiness  gone  past  never  to  come  back.  What  golden 
hours  we  passed !  Ah !  men  may  talk  of  the  love  of  chil 
dren  slightingly,  and  stroke  their  beards  and  say  they  cannot 
feel  the  sentiment  in  its  full  force.  It  is  a  fallacy.  There 
is  nothing  in  after  life  so  wholly  pure  and  strong  and  grand 
as  the  first  love  of  a  boy — as  his  devotion,  tenderness,  and 
sincerity.  In  this  after-life,  our  passions  come  to  be  matters 
of  calculation ;  we  look  to  settlements — we  estimate  eligi 
bility — of  rank,  or  wealth,  or  age.  Youth,  with  its  grand 
blindness,  looks  to  none  of  them.  It  sees  but  one  object  in 
the  world — wants  not  the  money  or  the  station,  asks  but  the 
heart !  " 

He  paused  :  and  then  went  on  sadly. 

"  Yes,  those  were  golden  hours — very  happy  hours. 
How  beautiful  she  was  !  I  think  there  never  was  such  pure 
and  tender  beauty  in  a  human  face  !  I  remember,  as  though 
it  were  yesterday,  the  child's  face  beaming  on  me,  while  the 
birds  were  chirping  in  the  trees  and  the  brook  laughing.  I 
thought  the  birds  were  envious  of  her  singing  when  she  ca 
rolled  clearly  in  the  bright  fresh  morning.  She  wore  a 
wreath  of  roses  in  her  hair,  and  carried  on  her  arm  a  basket 
full  of  flowers  ;  how  clearly  I  see  all  again — well !  well  1  " 

And  the  head  drooped  pensively  again  in  the  waning 
sunset. 

"  Then,  in  the  after  days,  when  I  came  back  from  Eu 
rope,"  he  continued,  sadly,  "  I  loved  her  just  as  before — 


tt    SEGRETO    PER    ESSER   FELICB.  l5l 

but  did  not  find  her  fill  so  completely  my  whole  heavens. 
Still,  it  is  true  she  rose  for  me  like  a  pure,  lovely  star ;  but 
the  hours  had  drawn  on  slowly,  and  other  stars  had  risen 
which  distracted  my  attention.  Especially  that  fiery  planet 
which  whirled  through  its  brief  orbit  and  so  narrowly  es-- 
caped  being  quenched  in  blood  1  " 

He  looked  gloomy  for  a  moment :  but  very  soon  the  old 
sad,  weary  suiile  came  back  as  his  eyes  were  raised  to  a  book 
case  in  the  corner.  On  this  bookcase  stood  two  statues : 
and  by  these  statues  lay  some  withered  flowers.  He  rose, 
took  down  the  withered  nosegay,  and  sat  down  again  in  the 
same  listless  way.  He  looked  at  them  sadly,  and  placed 
them  against  his  cheek  with  a  forlorn  smile. 

"  She  gave  them  to  me  one  afternoon  when  we  were 
walking  hand  in  hand  in  the  old  garden,"  he  murmured, 
wistfully,  "  and  I  told  her  they  were  not  half  so  fresh  and 
bright  and  purely  beautiful  as  her  face.  I  see  her  soft,  ten 
der  blush — I  feel  her  hand  tremble :  at  that  moment  life 
long  happiness  was  in  my  grasp — the  brilliant  pearl,  a  pure 
loving  heart — well :  I  threw  it  away  1  It  is  gone :  anothei 
has  enshrined  it  in  his  heart. 

"  \\  ell,  this  is  but  one  more  hope  gone — one  more  me 
mory  to  make  my  days  and  nights  weary,  to  multiply  these 
weary  sighs.  I  cannot,  do  not  complain — yet  I  loved  her  1 
loved  her  dearly  :  well,  well,  it  is  passed.  She  will  be  very 
happy :  he  is  a  worthy  gentleman,  a  kind  heart.  She  will 
not  tbink  of  me  often  ;  I  am  not  what  I  was.  Poor  sword  1 " 
he  continued,  sadly,  looking  at  his  weapon  lying  on  the  ta 
ble,  "  you  and  your  master  have  lost  edge  :  you  rust  wo- 
fully.  That  master  is  no  longer  the  gay  and  laughing  cava 
lier  whispering  to  ladies,  and  met  every  where  with  smiles — 
the  proud  heir  of  Effingham,  living  his  life  with  nothing  any 
where  but  those  welcome  smiles  : — like  these  poor  flowers 
ha  has  withered  ;  his  freshness  is  gone." 

A  low  voice  singing  came  from  the  next  room,  and  Mr. 
Effingham  recognized  Kate's  accents.  By  a  singular  coin 
cidence,  she  was  singing,  "  The  flowers  of  the  forest,"  that 
sweet  and  plaintive  air,  which  seems  to  resemble  the  sighing 
of  the  wind,  the  murmur  of  the  flowers,  the  low  trembling 
of  an  jEoliaii  harp  in  a  calm  evening  when  the  airs  are  al 
dead. 


1S2          H.  SEGRETO  PER  ESSER  FELtCF 

"Yes,  they  are"  gone,"  said  Mr.  Effingham,  his  head 
drooping :  "  yes  !  yes  !  love,  youth,  every  thing  rosy,  hope 
ful,  brilliant  is  gone  and  withered  away  :  and  life  has  drawn 
near  no  longer  any  thing  but  a  stern,  hard  reality.  Yes,  the 
flowers  of  the  forest  went  away  with  the  autumn — they  with 
ered  like  these  I  hold.  Withered  1  that  is  a  strange  word — 
can  it  apply  to  a  human  heart  ?  " 

The  tender  voice  of  the  child  came  from  the  adjoining 
room,  and  the  fresh,  pure  accents  pleased  and  quieted  him : 
he  smiled  faintly. 

"  No,  I  believe  my  heart  is  not  wholly  withered,"  he 
murmured,  "  like  my  hopes." 

And  reclining  in  the  tall  carved  chair,  his  sad  eyes  wan 
dered  to  the  sunset,  waning  slowly  over  the  great  forest  with 
a  pomp  of  golden  clouds.  His  face  was  bathed  in  the  rich 
rosy  light,  and  his  calm  eye  gazed  steadily  upon  the  blood- 
red  orb.  It  was  one  of  those  real  pictures  which  surpass 
the  masterpieces  of  the  greatest  painters,  and  the  flood  of 
light  poured  upon  it  like  a  crimson  stream.  Strikingly 
handsome,  pale,  thoughtful,  with  chiselled  lips,  and  long,  wav 
ing  hair,  and  rich,  elegant  costume — the  mere  externals 
would  have  rejoiced  an  artist:  but  no  artist  could  have 
caught  the  sad  smile  upon  the  lips ;  the  calm,  uncomplain 
ing  sorrow  in  the  eye ;  the  posture  so  full  of  calm,  almost 
languid  repose. 

As  he  gazed  on  the  sunset,  the  shadow  in  his  eyes  disap 
peared  in  a  degree :  his  brow  cleared  up  partially ;  he 
sighed,  but  no  longer  so  wearily  with  such  painful  languor. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  murmured,  "  there  is  the  sun  going 
down  after  running  his  course  honestly,  and  giving  light  to 
all ;  warming  the  earth  and  quickening  the  germ  within  its 
bosom.  The  seed  has  started  beneath  this  warmth ;  the 
leaves  begun  to  bud ;  the  birds  have  rejoiced  in  it,  and  the 
whole  universe  grown  stronger,  brighter,  fresher  since  he 
rose  this  morning.  And  now  he  sets,  quite  calmly,  having 
done  his  duty — ah  !  that  is  Kate's  word  1  Duty  ?  that 
is  surely  something,  and  it  seems  that  the  sun  has  not 
stopped  shining  ever  because  clouds  interposed  and  dimmed 
him  !  Why  should  a  man  grow  faint  and  murmur  then, 
and  fold  his  arms  and  be  idle,  because  the  world  is  not  a 
fairy  land  of  roses  and  perfumes — where  a  sweet  do-nothing 


1L    SEGRETO    PER    ESSER    FELICE.  153 

reigns  ?  That  dolcefar  niente  cannot  be  the  secret  of  hap 
piness  :  I  feel  that  it  is  not — and  I  have  always  laughed  at 
those  Arcadian  dreams  of  shepherdesses  and  shepherds  with 
their  crooks,  making  languid  love,  and  sighing  and  dreaming 
the  long  days  away  in  beautiful  woodlands  by  the  murmuring 
streams  of  fancy. 

"  No,  life  is  not  a  bower  to  dally  in,  to  be  happy,  care 
less,  in ;  where  all  is  sunshine.  I  feel  it  in  my  heart,  and 
trample  on  that  Epcurean  philosophy  which  teaches  such  a 
doctrine.  All  things  work — nature  nowhere  rests  in  these 
unhappy  delights  which  lap  the  heart  in  down  and  tell  us 
that  the  cold  wind  cannot  reach  us — that  it  should  not. 
That  wind — even  though  it  be  a  storm-wind — is  healthy, 
fresh,  invigorating,  like  the  breeze  which  stirs  the  leaves 
yonder  in  the  sunset.  The  sun  is  going — slowly,  gradually 
— he  has  done  his  duty,  and  will  rise  to-morrow  to  com 
mence  again  !  Have  not  men  a  duty  ?  " 

He  paused  with  dreamy  eyes  gazing  upon  the  sunset. 

"  I  have  suffered — I  have  enjoyed — I  have  tasted  life — 
drained  some  delicious  draughts,  and  been  driven  delirious 
by  them,"  he  continued.  "  Come,  let  me  see  if  there  is  no 
way  open  yet  for  me  to  imitate  the  sun,  and  do  some  good 
in  the  world.  Poor  brain  !  I  fear  it  is  dulled  now,  and  the 
heart  no  longer  warm  :  but  I  will  put  away  my  flowers  at 
least,  and  not  sigh  over  the  old  days." 

He  replaced  the  nosegay  on  the  book-case,  and  as  he  did 
so,  he  heard  Kate  come  tripping  along  the  broad  passage 
singing.  But  this  time  it  was  a  merrier  song — one  of  those 
laughing  ditties  which  have  rung  through  so  many  houses, 
filling  them  with  the  contagious  laughter  of  the  singer.  Mr. 
Effingharn  smiled,  and  was  pleased  to  hear  the  fresh,  merry 
voice. 

"  The  little  chirper,"  he  said,  "  merry  as  usual  1 " 

Kate  came  running  on  her  tip-toes,  and  carolling  that  old 
ditty,  in  which  the  singer  asserts  that  her  lover,  who  is  gone 
to  the  fair,  has  promised  to  buy  her  "  a  bunch  of  blue 
ribbon ;"  and  if  there  had  been  a  multiplicity  of  bunches 
of  ribbon  of  all  imaginary  colors  promised  to  Kate,  she 
could  not  have  carolled  her  little  ditty  with  more  contagious 
merriment. 

She  stopped  at  the  door,  and  tajped.     Mr.  Effingham 


154  IL    SEGRETO    PEK.    ESSER    FELICE. 

leaning  his  arm  on  the  mantelpiece,  said,  "  Come  in,  Kate  1 ' 
and  his  voice  was  much  less  sad. 

Kate  entered  bright  and  sparkling,  tripping,  and  running 
on  her  tiptoes,  with  her  curls  flying,  and  her  eyes  dancing. 

"  Oh  my  goodness  !  here  you  are  all  by  yourself,"  she 
said  "  You  mustn't  be  moping,  DOW  you  know,  cousin.  I 
won't  allow  that." 

"  Pray,  what  right  have  you,  madam,  to  command  me  ?  " 
was  the  smiling  answer. 

"  I  ?  Why  you  belong  to  me,  you  know.  Gracious  I  " 
continued  Kate  laughing,  "  did  any  body  ever  ?  " 

And  the  child  put  her  arm  round  his  waist,  and  drew  him 
toward  the  door. 

"  Come  now,  cousin,  and  take  a  walk  with  me,"  she  Stiid 

"  I'm  rather  dull,  Katy." 

"  You  mustn't  be." 

"  Suppose  I  cannot  help  it." 

"  But  you  shall." 

There  was  no  resisting  her  entreaties,  and  Mr.  Effingham 
soon  prepared  himself  for  the  walk.  As  they  went  forth  in 
the  clear,  still  evening  of  the  month  of  flowers,  the  birds 
sang  overhead,  the  streams  ran  merrily,  the  whole  earth 
seemed  lapped  in  soft  repose.  The  bleat  of  sheep  came  from 
the  hills,  the  cattle  bells  were  tinkling  as  the  long  line  came 
slowly  back  from  the  pasture,  and  the  wagoners  returning 
from  their  work,  were  singing  their  rude  African  songs,  and 
iesting  with  each  other  gayly.  Flocks  of  gay  birds  were 
circling  through  the  sky,  and  filling  the  wide  air  with  joyous 
carollings.  The  thousand  tranquil  noises  of  a  country 
evening,  gave  a  light  and  music  to  the  time  which  cities  never 
feel.  And  then  the  songs  died  away  through  the  forest  like 
a  merry  laugh ;  the  sheep  no  longer  bleated,  but  with  lazy 
lips ;  the  cattle  drew  near  home  ;  and  the  low  tinkle  of  their 
bells  was  hushed.  The  birds,  too,  folded  up  their  wings, 
and  only  chirped  occasionally  as  they  went  to  sleep.  The 
night  had  come. 

The  tranquil  hour,  and  all  these  quiet  sounds,  calmed  the 
Bad  heart,  and  made  it  lighter ;  and  he  looked  fondly  on  the 
little,  bright-eyed  face  at  his  side.  And  Kate  burst  out  joy 
fully  singing  : — 


THE   SEIGNEUR   MORT-  REYNARD.  155 

•  When  the  flow'r  is  i'  the  bud,  and  the  leaf  upc  i  the  tree, 
The  lark  shall  sing  me  home  in  my  ain  countr  e." 

Mr.  Effingham  gazed  at  the  child  smiling,  and  said  : 

"  I  know  who  is  my  lark,  and  I'm  glad  I  am  home  in  mj 
own  country  to  hear  the  songs  she  sings." 

So  they  returned  home  through  the  quiet  evening  to  the 
old  hall,  whose  chimneys  still  glowed  in  the  sunset,  and  sent 
up  a  golden  flood  of  curling  smoke.  The  dogs  rose  up  and 
came  to  have  a  romp  with  Kate.  The  squire's  face  was 
smiling  as  he  looked  up  from  his  newspaper;  the  house 
smiled  not  less  brightly ;  and  his  face  was  sad  no  longer. 

The  healthful  voice  of  nature  had  spoken  to  his  heart, 
and  he  was  calm. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

HOW  THE  8EIGNEUB  MORT-EETNAED  PREACHED  AND  PRACTISED. 

THAT  merry  fox-hunter  and  incorrigible  bachelor,  Mr.  Jack 
Hamilton,  or  as  Captain  Waters  called  him,  Seigneur  Mort- 
Reynard,  was  holding  a  confidential  conversation  with  Miss 
Alethea  in  the  library — when  we  say  confidential,  we  mean 
personal — inasmuch,  as  the  colloquy  in  question  busied  itselt 
with  the  moral  delinquencies  of  the  identical  seigneur,  and 
especially  referred  to  his  reynard-hunting  propensities. 

When  Mr.  Effingham  entered,  he  found  that  his  friend 
was  engaged  in  that  forlorn  and  desperate  undertaking — 
arguing  with  one  of  the  opposite  sex.  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton 
was  accustomed  to  plume  himself  upon  his  knowledge  of  the 
female  character  ;  to  mention  with  pride  and  satisfaction  the 
fact  that  he  had  always  seen  through  them,  as  he  expressed 
it,  and  been  enabled  by  his  splendid  sagacity  to  detect  and 
escape  their  wiles ;  in  a  word,  he  would  often  inform  his 
Nimrod  associates  over  their  claret,  after  a  jovial  hunt,  that 
he  knew  women  perfectly,  and  that  he  was  so  old  a  fox  that 
the  swiftest  of  them  could,  not  run  him  down.  And  yet, 
with  all  this  boasted  knowledge  of  the  sex,  with  all  this  pro 
found  insight  into  their  peculiarities  of  organization,  the  un 
fortunate  man  was  absolutely  arguing  a  proposition  with  a 
lady.  The  poor  fellow  had  really  not  learned  the  first  and 


156  HOW   THE   SEIGNEUR    MOI      REYNARD 

most  commonplace  rules  of  the  science  which  he  boasted 
And  how  he  did  boast  when  he  got  Tom  Lane,  and  Charle) 
Cotes,  and  the  rest,  snugly  seated  at  a  jovial  supper  at  the 
Trap  ! 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  this  keen  student  of  (female)  human 
nature  would  say,  with  one  arm  resting  on  the  table,  the 
right  hand  holding  to  his  lips  a  glass  of  claret,  "  you  are  not 
as  old  as  I  am,  and  will  not  take  my  advice,  and  leave  the 
girls  alone.  Avoid  them,  sir! — this  world  would  get  on 
gloriously  were  it  not  for  these  women — with  their  sighings, 
and  oglings,  and  flirting  fans,  and  rustling  flounces.  All  the 
trouble  in  the  universe — more  or  less — is  caused  by  them, 
and  many  a  tall  fellow — in  the  Shakespearian  sense,  I  was 
reading  him  yesterday ;  a  good  writer  ! — many  a  fine  fellow, 
brave,  and  holding  up  his  head,  has  bit  the  dust  before 
'em ! 

"  Just  look !  Here  is  a  jolly  companion,  ready  to  run  a 
fox  to  the  death,  to  hunt  deer  on  the  coldest  night  that  ever 
a  fryingpan  shone  in,  what  I  call  a  boy  of  metal,  ready  for 
fun,  and  joyous  as  the  day  !  ready  to  clash  glasses,  to  laugh 
at  matrimony,  to  break  through  every  thing  which  bothers 
him,  and  as  brave  as  Julius  Caesar.  Well,  sir — the  bottle 
stays  with  you ! — just  look  now  how  the  thing  works !  He  goes 
to  some  ball  or  other,  makes  the  acquaintance  of  a  pair  of 
blue  eyes,  lips  to  match — to  say  nothing  of  the  rest.  He 
looks — the  infatuated  fellow  will  not  cut  and  run  as  a  brave 
man  may,  when  he  knows  the  enemy  can  beat  him  easily — 
he  dances  with  her — goes  bowing  and  ambling,  and  mincing 
his  steps  and  smiling  through  a  minuet  or  a  quadrille :  he 
squeezes  her  hand — the  poor,  infatuated  boy !  Never  squeeze 
a  woman's  hand,  sir !  by  Jove,  it  is  too  ridiculous.  Well, 
the  unhappy  victim  of  the  eyes,  does  this  more  and  more : 
he  returns  her  ogles,  he  thinks  her  courtesies,  as  she  holds 
out  her  silken  skirt,  the  very  sublimity  of  grace,  by  George ! 
he  feels  a  something  creeping  over  him,  that  makes  him  feel 
like  a  thousand  pins  were  sticking  in  him,  and  as  if  the  black 
rascals,  who  are  scraping  away  on  their  fiddles,  are  playing 
rainbow  music,  on  moonlight  violins,  with  bows  made  of 
flowers,  by  Jove  !  The  reel  finishes  him.  sir ! — he  dances  it 
with  her — her  fact  flushes  up,  her  eyes  sparkle,  her  satins 
rustle,. she  shoots  him  down,  by  Jove !  with  her  eyes,  and 


PfeEACHED    AND    PRACTISED.  157 

takes  his  heart,  which  he  is  holding  in  his  hand,  and  puts  it 
in  her  pocket — if  ladies  have  pockets,  which  I  doubt. 

"  Now,  mark  me,  sir — not  bad  claret,  this ! — from  that 
minute,  he  is  gone  !  He  leaves  hunting — he  passes  over  to 
the  other  side,  when  he  meets  us  jolly  fellows  on  the  road  ; 
he  frowns  when  we  refuse  to  acknowledge  that  all  the  sense, 
all  the  virtue,  all  the  brilliancy  of  the  world,  is  found  in 
women ;  and  let  any  one  dare  to  assert  that  his  particular 
paragon  is  not  the  pearl  of  all — the  top  froth — the  moonlight 
and  flowers — the  head  and  front  of  all.  Try  it!  a  cock- 
sparrow  is  nothing  to  him.  He  whips  out  his  hanger,  by 
Jove !  his  eyes  blaze  up,  he  makes  a  pass  at  you,  and  runs 
you  through  the  gizzard,  causing  a  large  and  affectionate 
circle  to  mourn  your  loss. 

"  All  this,  sir,  is  caused  by  women — from  their  passion 
for  matrimony.  Men,  sir,  are  to  them,  what  the  fox  is  to 
us — they  take  pleasure  in  running  them  down  and  slaughter 
ing  them.  No,  I  am  wrong — they  are  not  so  easy  as  that : 
they  are  like  cats,  sir,  when  a  mouse  falls  into  their  clutches. 
They  tie  the  infatuated  poor  fellow  to  their  apron-string — 
they  watch,  and  smile,  and  simper,  and  die  away :  but  try 
to  escape,  sir,  under  the  impression  that  the  enemy  is  lulled 
to  sleep.  By  Jove !  sir,  the  claw  comes  out  from  the  velvet 
paw,  and  you  are  gone  !  You  are  married,  sir ! — you  are 
led  like  a  sheep  to  the  slaughter,  and  you  may  bleat  as  much 
as  you  choose,  by  George  !  You  are  thenceforth  a  married 
man,  and  your  bachelor  joys  are  all  gone.  Try  a  fox  hunt 
if  you  dare — madam  will  make  you  rue  it:  speak  to  your 
bachelor  friends — she'll  scratch  you,  sir.  From  that  moment 
you  are  a  joyless,  married  man,  and  your  whole  life  is  to  be 
spent  in  working  like  a  drudge  for  a  set  of  little  dirty-faced 
darlings,  who  make  you  get  up  fifty  times  in  the  night, 
and  won't  let  you  read  your  newspaper  for  crawling  over 
you. 

"  That's  it,  sir :  you  are  an  unfortunate  married  man. 
You  dare  not  ask  your  friends  to  dinner,  or  if  you  feel  that 
it  is  a  shame  not  to,  you  say  in  a  mild  and  sheepish  voice, 
Really,  now,  iry  dear  Tom  (or  Jack,  as  the  case  may  be),  I 
am  delighted  to  see  you ;  your  face  reminds  me  of  old  times 
(poor  fellow,  PO  it  does !)  come  and — I  hope  you  can  make 
it  convenient--  /vu  are  sure  you  have  no  engagement — J 


58         HOW  THE  SEIGNEUR  MORT-REYNARD 

should  be  happy — Do  you  know — my — wife  ?  '  And,  bj 
George  !  sir,  he  hangs  his  head,  and  looks  like  he  had  been 
caught  stealing  a  sheep  ;  for  he  knows  that  madam  will  sit 
up  like  a  lump  of  ice,  and  make  personal  observations  un 
pleasantly  alluding  to  his  past  life  with  us  jolly  fellows,  and 
when  she  has  him,  sir,  alone,  will  make  the  watches  of  the 
night  miserable  with  a  lecture  behind  the  curtains,  in  which 
she  will  prove,  to  his  own,  and  her  own.  satisfaction,  that  he 
is  falling  back  into  his  old  abominable  courses,  when  he 
used  to  commit  the  deadly  sin  of  sitting  up  a-nights,  and 
rattling  the  dice,  and  eating  suppers,  and  chasing  reynard 
with  us  jolly  boys,  by  George !  He  knows  she'll  lay  it  all 
out  to  him,  with  that  eloquence  which  she  possesses  in  such 
a  high  degree ;  and  no  wonder  that  the  poor  fellow  blushes, 
and  hesitates,  and  hems  !  when  he  ventures  to  suggest  that  his 
old  friends  should  visit  him — the  reprobates,  as  madam  calls 
them.  I,  for  one,  would  not  go  and  dine  with  him — I  should 
shake  my  head,  and  go  on  my  way,  in  pity,  not  anger, 
and  I  would  empty  six  bottles,  and  run  down  fifty  foxes  to 
get  his  face  out  of  my  mind.  Yes,  sir,  that  is  the  short  and 
the  long  of  it — your  fate  will  be  to  find  yourself  henpecked  ! 
Avoid  them  in  time,  by  Jove !  never  put  yourself  in  their 
power,  or  you  are  gone — you  are,  indeed  !  Never  laugh  and 
talk  with  them — never  visit  them — above  all,  sir,  never 
argue  with  them,  for  you  are  sure  to  get  the  worst  of  it.  Lay 
this  down  as  a  general  rule,  that  a  woman  will  always  have 
the  last  word  ;  and,  secondly,  that  no  woman  ever  yet  under 
stood  how  a  demonstration  followed  a  fixed  set  of  premises ; — 
logic  is  not  their  weakness,  sir,  they  don't  understand  it ; 
but  what  they  do  understand,  is  jumping  to  their  own  con 
clusions,  and  sticking  to  'em  like  grim  death.  One  of  their 
conclusions  is,  that  all  men  of  right  ought  to  be  caught,  if 
eligible.  Now,  sir,  you  needn't  resist—they  will  convince 
you :  the  only  way  is  to  do  as  I  do — never  go  near  them, 
and  cultivate  a  bachelor  life." 

And  after  these  diabolical  sentiments,  Mr.  Jack  Hamil 
ton  would  empty  his  claret,  pour  out  a  second  glass,  and 
begin  singing,  "  Oh.  a  jolly  life  for  me-e-e!  A  jolly  life 
for  me!" 

Let  us  return  from  this  digression  to  the  Hall,  which  we 
have  left,  to  listen  to  Mr.  Hamilton's  advice  given  to  hia 


PREACHED    AND    PRACTISED.  159 

bachelor  friends  at  the  Trap.  But  it  is  not  our  intention  to 
report  the  words  uttered  by  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Miss  Ata 
thea.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  the  Seigneur  Mort-Reynard 
proved  his  own  philosophy  to  be  perfectly  correct,  and  was 
quietly  unhorsed  by  Miss  Alethea  in  every  charge — that 
lady  managing  the  weapons  with  her  habitual  air  of  prim 
and  stately  grace. 

"  Ah,  here's-  Champ  coming  to  the  rescue  !  "  cried  the 
delighted  seigneur.  "  I  am  in  a  bad  way  here,  friend  Ef 
fingham.  Miss  Alethea  has  been  proving  satisfactorily  tha\ 
I  am  a  most  hardened  sinner." 

Miss  Alethea  smiled,  with  a  wintry  look,  but  said  noth 
ing. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Jack,"  replied  Mr.  Effingham 
suppressing  by  an  effort  the  painful  emotion  caused  by  th» 
sight  of  his  rival ;  "  how  did  I  miss  seeing  you  when  you 
rode  up  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  slipped  through  the  lane  by  the  stable  j  I  wanted 
to  get  the  nearest  road  to  Riverhead." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mr.  Effingham,  coldly  ;  but  immediately 
suppressing  this  exhibition  of  feeling,  he  added,  calmly, 
"  present  my  best  respects  to  the  family." 

"  Including  Clare  ?  "  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  easily. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Effingham,  austerely  :  and  he  picked 
up  a  book  to  conceal  his  emotion.  Then  conscious  that  this 
tone  was  a  great  injustice  to  his  friend,  he  said,  "  I  am 
rather  unwell  to-day — I  hope  you  are  as  hearty  as  ever, 
Hamilton." 

"  I  ?"  said  the  Seigneur  Mort-Reynard,  laughing;  "why 
I  never  felt  better  in  my  life.  We  had  a  glorious —  " 

Suddenly  the  seigneur  paused  :  he  saw  the  eye  of  Miss 
Alethea  fixed  on  him,  and  suppressed  the  remainder  of  his 
sentence  with  a  sheepish  look. 

"  I  am  going  over  to  carry  Miss  Clare  these  gloves,"  he 
added.  "  She  commissioned  me  to  procure  them  in  town 
for  her." 

"  You  know  the  size  of  her  hand,  then  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Effingham,  not  to  have  his  painful  silence  observed. 

"  Her  hand  ?  I  think  so  1  The  sweetest  little  hand. 
She  laid  it  in  my  own  buckskin  one,  and  by  Jove  ! — a  thou 
sand  pardons,  Miss  Alethea  ! — and  I  measured  it  by  laying 


.60  HOW    THE    SEIGNEUR    MORT-REYNARD 

my  fore  and  middle  fingers  upon  it.  They  were  just  the 
width  of  her  hand,  and  her  thumb  was  the  size  of  my  little 
finger." 

11  Ah  !  "  said  Mr.  Effingham. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  Now  if  the  ladies  only  wore  some  spe 
cies  of  covering  on  the  lips  !  " 

Mr.  Hamilton  paused  with  a  laugh. 

"  On  the  lips,  sir  ?  "  asked  Miss  Alethea,  who  was  not 
quick  at  a  jest. 

"  And  I  measured  with  my  own,  as  I  measured  the 
hand  !  "  said  the  seigneur,  laughing. 

Miss  Alethea  drew  herself  up :  Mr.  Efiingham's  face 
flushed.  His  friend  did  not  perceive  it,  apparently,  and 
went  on. 

"  I  really  think  I  am  becoming  a  lady's  man,"  he  said. 
"  Here  I  am  running  about  buying  gloves,  and  flirting  fans, 
and  making  myself  useful  in  a  variety  of  ways.  I  really 
should  not  be  surprised  if  I  ended  by  attaching  myself  to 
some  fair  lady  for  life  !  " 

"  A  good  resolution,"  said  Mr.  Eflingham,  looking  away. 
"  As  for  myself,  I  am  growing  more  and  more  careless  in 
these  matters." 

"  That  reminds  me,  Champ,"  said  Miss  Alethea,  "  that 
we  are  all  invited  to  Mr.  Lee's  to-morrow." 

"  I  shall  not  go." 

"  Why  ?  " 

Mr.  Eflingham  looked  at  his  sister,  but  suppressed  his 
irritated  feeling. 

"  I  am  not  very  well,"  he  added,  "  please  say  as  much." 

"  Now,  Champ,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  permit  me  to  ob 
serve  that  you  do  wrong  in  neglecting  the  ladies  over  there. 
They  are  really  charming — and  though  I  confess  what  I 
probably  should  conceal,  that  for  certain  reasons  I  am  not 
an  unbiassed  judge  between  Miss  Henrietta  and  Miss  Clare, 
yet  I  assure  you  I  think  the  former  a  most  beautiful  and 
lovely  girl." 

This  speech  was  so  plain  that  Mr.  Effiugham  felt  a  pang 
shoot  through  his  breast :  he  said  nothing. 

"  They  were  talking  about  your  neighborly  behavior," 
continued  his  friend,  coolly,  "  and  Clare — Miss  Clare,  I 
mean — said  that  you  had  scarcely  been  near  them  since  your 


PREACHED    AND   PRACTISED.  16' 

return  from  Europe.  That  is  not  friendly,  and  thej  think 
you  are  driven  away  by  that  Don  Moustachio,  Captain  Wa 
ters,  whom  you  do  not  like  !  " 

We  regret  to  say  that  this  was  a  fib  :  the  fox-hunter  had 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  Riverhead  family  had  any 
such  thoughts. 

Mr.  Eflingham  replied  : 

"  I  do  not  dislike  Captain  Waters — we  are  good  friends." 

"  Why  then  stay  away  ?  " 

Mr.  Effiugham  replied  by  the  same  look  which  had 
greeted  a  similar  question  from  Miss  Alethea.  And  the 
same  suppression  of  his  irritability  ensued. 

"  I  stay  away  because  I  visit  nowhere,"  he  said. 

"  Ah,  you  fear  the  bright  eyes  of  Henrietta  !  "  said  Mr. 
Hamilton. 

This  quiet  assumption  that  Clare  could  not  be  the  source 
of  fear  fr^m  her  peculiar  relations  towards  himself — Mr. 
Hamilton,  -produced  a  painful  effect  upon  Mr.  Effingham. 
He  began  to  feel  some  rising  indignation,  too,  at  these  ban- 
terings  from  a  man  who  had  asked  him  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye,  in  a  former  interview,  "  if  he  had  seen  Clare  ?" — 
upon  his  return,  the  reader  will  remember.  Therefore  to 
Mr.  Hamilton's  bantering  charge,  that  he  feared  Henrietta's 
eyes,  he  replied,  coldly  : 

"  I  think  you  might  have  added  Miss  Clare  Lee  to  the 
number  of  those  I  do  not  visit  at  Riverhead,  from  a  senti 
ment  of  fear." 

"  Clare  ?  "  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  with  some  surprise,  "  but, 
my  dear  fellow  I  she  is  wholly  out  of  the  question." 

"  How,  sir  ?  " 

"  Hum  1 "  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  looking  mysterious,  "  per 
haps  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  speak  :  there  are  certain  thinga 
which  should  not  be  alluded  to,  I  believe." 

Mr.  Effingham  turned  his  head  aside,  and  his  breast 
heaved  : — his  cheek  grew  paler.  Then  he  conquered  this 
emotion,  so  painful  and  trying  :  and  turning  to  his  friend, 
said,  as  he  offered  his  hand  : 

"  You  are  right,  Hamilton,  I  will  go  to-morrow  !  " 

And  his  head  sank.  Ten  minutes  afterwards  the  Ssign 
eur  Mort-Reynard  rose  ard  departed. 


102  GENERALSHIP    OP    DON    MOUbTjLCHIO. 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

GENERALSHIP  OP  DON  MOU8TACHIO. 

WHEN  the  Hall  chariot  drove  up  to  the  residence  of  Mr, 
Lee  on  the  succeeding  day,  it  contained — in  addition  to  the 
squire.  Miss  Alethea  and  Kate — Mr.  Effingham.  He  was 
perfectly  calm,  though  a  little  paler  than  usual,  and  greeted 
the  ladies  with  calm  and  proud  courtesy.  Mr.  Lee  was 
delighted  to  see  them, — exhibiting  much  more  satisfaction, 
indeed,  than  might  have  been  expected  from  one  merely  dis 
charging  the  stereotyped  duties  of  a  host :  and  soon  the 
squire  and  himself  were  engaged  in  an  obstinate  political 
dispute,  which  was  carried  on  with  various  brandishings  of 
the  arms,  contortions  of  the  visage  and  flirting  of  the  coat- 
skirts.  But  let  not  the  reader  imagine  that  because  we  have 
made  the  squire  and  Mr.  Lee,  whenever  this  narrative  has 
brought  them  together,  dispute  vehemently,  this  disputing  is 
a  radical  peculiarity  of  the  country  gentleman  always, — no : 
he  sometimes  converses,  and  does  not  argue.  But  those 
were  troublous  times,  and  men's  minds  were  agitated ;  and 
whenever  the  Virginia  mind  is  agitated  it  brandishes  the 
weapons  of  oratory,  before  donning  the  instruments  of  na 
tional  warfare. 

But  there  was  another  reason,  at  least  in  the  case  of  Mr. 
Lee,  for  this  propensity  to  talk.  Captain  Waters  had  not 
made  his  appearance  since  some  days  before  the  races,  and 
the  old  gentleman  missed  the  loud-voiced  soldier.  The 
"  Virginia  Gazette"  and  the  talk  of  the  girls  was  a  bad  sub 
stitute,  and  Mr.  Lee  now  opposed  every  thing  the  squire 
said  for  the  pure  sake  of  talking.  For  it  is  well  known  that 
people  who  dispute  talk  the  most  and  the  loudest. 

In  the  middle,  however,  of  a  lengthy  and  involved  sen 
tence,  which  was  trampling  disdainfully  on  Lindley  Murray, 
Mr.  Lee  found  himself  greeted  by  a  martial  and  courteous 
voice,  which  said : 

"  A  charming  day,  sir  1  " 

And  Captain  Ralph  entered,  caressing  his  moustache  and 
distributing  smiles.  Behind  him  came  Willie,  who  had 


GENERALSHIP   OF   ION   MOUSTACHIO.  163 

begged  off  from  the  parson  and  followed  Kate  with  devoted 
love. 

There  was  a  general  shaking  of  hands,  and  after  some 
desultory  conversation,  dinner  succeeded.  After  the  meal, 
the  various  members  of  the  party  began  conversing.  Mr. 
Lee  and  the  squire  sat  in  the  porch  smoking  their  pipes  and 
brandishing  their  arms,  starting  up  and  removing  their  legs 
from  the  balustrade  when  the  fire  of  the  pipes  fell  on  them  in 
the  heat  of  debate,  and  from  time  to  time  replenishing,  and 
lighting  the  cob  pipes  with  a  coal,  brought  by  an  ingenui 
vultus  puer  ingenuique  pudoris  of  the  African  race,  on 
a  two-pronged  fork.  When  the  pipes  were  refilled,  these 
politicians  commenced  puffing  and  arguing  with  new  zest. 

Mr.  Effingham  and  Clare  had  walked  out  into  the  gar 
den  :  the  Captain,  before  issuing  forth  also  with  Miss  Alethea 
and  Henrietta,  passed  a  few  moments  conversing  with  Kate, 
who  sat  by  him  on  the  sofa,  the  object  of  Willie's  devoted 
regards. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  Willie,"  he  said,  "  I  am  pleased  to  see 
you  :  and  yon,  petite  mam'selle"  he  added  with  a  laugh  to 
Kate,  "  or  signorina,  or  signoretta  as  the  Italians  say  when 
they  wish  to  address  a  very  pretty,  bright-faced  little  lady 
are  you  well — bien  aise  ?  " 

"  Merci,  monsieur !  parfaitement !  "  cried  Kate,  laughing, 
and  to  Willie's  profound  consternation. 

"  Ah  !  possible  ?  you  speak  French  ?  "  said  the  delighted 
Captain. 

"  No,  no,  sir,"  said  Kate,  smiling  merrily,  "  that  is  all  I 
know :  please  don't  speak  to  me  in  any  thing  but  English." 

The  Captain  liked  the  fresh  child's  face,  and  said  : 

"  I  will  not,  then  :  but  indeed,  little  miss,  I  ought  to  be 
allowed  to  use  French  to  describe  to  you  the  little  Alsatian 
girls — charming  little  creatures — whom  you  resemble  :  es 
pecially  in  costume." 

Kate  assumed  a  delightful  little  womanly  air,  and  replied 
primly : 

"  Oh,  sir,  that  about  the  costume  spoils  all.  Do  they 
dress  like  me — in  Alsatia  ?  Where  is  that,  sir  ?  " 

"  On  the  Rhine,  petite  mam'selle,  and  the  costume  is  like 
yours.  Handsome  colored  dress,  laced  in  front  and  orna 
mented  with  ribbons — fluttering,  morbleu  1  like  flags  1  skirt, 


164  GENERALSHIP    OF    DON    MOUSTACHU. 

I  believe  they  call  it,  looped  back  ^ust  so,  like  your  own,  and 
this  skirt  very  short  like  your  own  again  ;  hair,  lastly,  unpow- 
dered  and  parted  in  the  middle." 

"  Oh,  my  next  dresses  are  going  to  be  made  long,"  said 
Kate,  "  and  papa  says  I  shall  have  my  hair  powdered." 

"  Ah  !  that  will  spoil  the  likeness  !  You  should  see  your 
counterparts,  Mam'selle  Kate,  with  their  water-jars  on  their 
heads,  coming  from  the  fountains  singing." 

"  They  must  be  very  pretty,"  said  Kate,  and  then  she 
added  quickly,  laughing  and  covering  her  mouth,  "  indeed  I 
didn't  mean  that !  you  know  I  did  not,  sir  1  " 

The  Captain  laughed  heartily,  and  saying,  "  parbleu  !  I 
think  it  very  true,  they  are  like  you  and  are  very  pretty  little 
creatures  !  "  turned  to  the  elder  ladies. 

Willie  cast  gloomy  and  jealous  looks  at  Kate,  and  made 
signs  to  the  effect  that  he  did  not  admire  Captain  Waters,  and 
would  like  to  engage  in  single  combat  with  that  gentleman. 

"  Aint  you  ashamed  !  "  said  Kate,  "  to  be  doing  so  !  " 

"Who  is  this  individual?"  said  Willie,  with  a  grand 
air. 

"  Captain  Waters,  sir.     You  know  that  very  well." 

"  Hum  1  "  said  Willie. 

"  You  are  jealous ! " 

"  I  aint." 

"  To  be  quarrelling  with  every  body  who  speaks  to  me. 
You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  and  I  like  Captain 
Waters  a  thousand  times  better  than  you.  He  laughs  with 
me,  and  you  do  nothing  but  quarrel." 

Willie  looked  so  much  hurt  and  mortified  at  these  harsh 
words,  that  Kate  relented,  and  said  : 

"  Now  Willie — don't  be  angry — you  know  how  much  I 
like  you." 

Willie  refused  to  be  comforted. 

"  I  didn't  mean  I  liked  him  better  than  you" 

Willie  shook  his  head. 

"For  you  know  you  are  my  sweetheart,  added  Kate 
with  a  fatal  glance  of  her  bright  eyes. 

Willie  brightened. 

"  Am  I  ?  "  he  said, 

"  Yes  indeed." 


HOW    HENRIETTA    RETURNED    THE   NECKLACE.  165 

Willie  put  his  hand  into  his  bosom,  drew  out  the  truo 
love  indenture,  and  unrolling  it,  said  solemnly  : 

"Sign  it?" 

Kate  burst  out  laughing,  and  cried,  "  Oh  no  !  no  !  I  am 
not  of  age,  sir  !  See  they  are  looking  at  us  and  laughing. 
Oh  Willie !  and  there's  Mr.  Hamilton." 

Willie  rolled  up  the  contract  with  a  deep  sigh,  and  then 
followed  Kate  out  into  the  grove. 

Mr.  Hamilton  entered  just  as  the  colloquy  ended,  smil 
ing,  good-humored,  shaking  every  body  by  the  hand.  The 
moment  he  made  his  appearance,  Captain  Waters,  with  con 
summate  generalship,  offered  his  arm  to  Henrietta,  bore  her 
off  with  a  triumphant  smile,  and  disappeared. 

But  two  observations  had  passed  between  the  gentlemen. 

"  Bon  jour,  Seigneur  Mort-Reynard  !  " 

"  Why,  good  day,  Don  Moustachio !  " 

The  former  was  uttered  by  the  Captain,  with  malicious 
courtesy  and  a  low  bow ;  the  latter  observation  was  charac 
terized  by  a  defeated  and  humbled  look,  which  we  suspect 
was  somewhat  affected  by  Mr  Jack  Hamilton.  The  expla 
nation  of  all  this  was,  that  Mr.  Hamilton  had  mentioned 
Miss  Alethea  among  the  list  of  ladies  who  were  the  enemies 
and  lecturers  of  bachelors,  in  the  Captain's  hearing,  a  few 
days  before ;  and  now  the  Captain,  by  his  rapid  and  con 
summate  strategy,  left  him  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  the 
lecturing  lady,  while  he,  the  soldier,  with  his  head  erect,  his 
breast  shaking  with  laughter,  bore  off  Henrietta. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

HOW  HENRIETTA  RETURNED  THE  DIAMOND   NECKLACE, 

THEY  descended  to  the  lawn. 

"  I  am  glad  you  came,  sir,"  said  Henrietta  to  the  Captain, 

That  gentleman  assumed  a  delighted  expression  of  coun 
tenance,  and  replied  : 

"  Really,  my  dear  Madam  Henriette,  you  flatter  me  ex 
tremely." 

"  Flatter  you,  sir  ?  " 


166  HOW   HENRIETTA    RETURNED    THE   .NECKLACE. 

"  Yes,  morbleu  !  " 

"  How,  sir?" 

"  Why,  when  a  lady  says  in  a  soft,  charming  voice,  and 
with  a  tender  glance,  to  one  of  the  ruder  sex,  '  Ah  !  I  am 
glad  you  came  ! '  what  can  it  be  but  an  exhibition  of  extra 
ordinary  regard,  and  how  can  the  rude  individual  aforesaid 
prevent  himself  from  experiencing  a  sentiment  of  pleasure  at 
such  a  flattering  observation  ?  " 

Henrietta  listened  to  this  reply,  and  said,  satirically, 
when  the  Captain  had  finished  : 

"  You  are  slightly  mistaken,  sir — in  two  things." 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  asked  the  Captain,  with  great  anxiety. 

"  First,  sir,  I  did  not  speak  in  a  '  soft,  charming  voice  ' — 

"  Ah,  madam,"  commenced  the  gallant  Captain. 

"  Let  me  proceed,  sir :  nor  with  a  '  tender  glance  ' — ten 
der,  indeed  !  " 

And  Miss  Henrietta  pouted. 

"  See  now,"  said  the  Captain,  "  there  is  another  illustra 
tion  of  a  fact  which  I  have  always  asserted." 

"  Pray,  what  fact,  sir  ?  " 

"  That  we  do  not  ourselves  know  the  tone  in  which  we 
speak — are  wholly  ignorant  of  the  expression  of  our  eyes, 
morbleu  !  " 

And  after  this  audacious  bit  of  philosophy,  the  soldier 
looked  around  him,  with  a  delighted  and  self-satisfied  air,  at 
the  grass,  the  trees,  the  various  pleasant  objects  visible  on 
the  well-kept  lawn  they  were  traversing. 

Henrietta  felt  a  strong  disposition  to  take  her  hand  from 
the  arm  of  her  companion ;  but  this  feeling  of  pique  soon 
passed :  she  had  almost  learned  to  bear  the  soldier's  banter 
by  this  time. 

"  I  did  not  doubt,  sir,  when  I  denied  having  flattered 
you,"  she  said,  with  a  somewhat  satirical  expression,  "  that 
you  would,  with  your  extreme  fertility  of  invention,  find 
some  proof  of  the  assertion  you  made ;  but  jesting  aside, 
Captain  Waters,  I  wished  to  see  you ;  and  that  is  the  simple 
truth." 

"  There  again  1 " 

The  young  girl  took  no  notice  of  this  triumphant  ex 
clamation,  and  drew  from  her  reticule  the  oblong  morocco 
case,  which  we  have  seen  her  win  upon  the  day  of  the  race. 


HENRIETTA    RETURNED    THE    NECKLACE.  167 

'  About  this,  sir,"  sbe  said. 

The  Captain  perused  the  clouds. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied ;  "  nothing  could  be  truer ! — a  charm 
ing  afternoon." 

And  he  looked  around  with  great  satisfaction. 

"  The  necklace,  sir — " 

"  I  agree  with  you." 

"  Is  entirely  too — " 

"  Yes,  they  are  equal  to  nightingales.  As  you  observed 
the  song  of  the  oriole  is  as  clear  and  musical  as  a  silver 
trumpet !  " 

"  I  observed  no  such  thing,  sir,"  said  Henrietta,  piqued 
at  the  wanderings  of  her  companion. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  Captain,  readily,  "  but  you  might  have 
said  it ;  for  nothing  could  be  more  just.  I  have  heard  the 
Bendermere  nightingales — the  birds  who  love  the  roses  so, 
you  are  aware,  my  dear  Mademoiselle  Henrietta,  in  G-ulistan, 
which  signifies,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  '  Land  of  Roses.'  Well, 
I  give  you  my  parole  d^honneur  I  don't  think  they  are  much 
finer  than  that  oriole." 

"  Captain  Waters  1 " 

"  Yes,  he's  a  glorious  fellow — looks  as  if  he  was  singing 
himself  away  into  smoke.  I  expect  to  see  him  rise  to  the 
clouds  in  a  moment,  like  the  curl  rising  up  from  those  grace 
ful  pipes  yonder." 

This  beautiful  illustration  did  not  satisfy  Henrietta,  who 
was  more  and  more  piqued. 

"  Captain  Waters,  will  you  or  will  you  not  listen  to  me  ?  " 
she  said,  pouting. 

"  Listen  to  you  ?  How  could  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  " 
said  the  Captain,  gallantly. 

"  Well,  sir,  as  it  is  so  pleasant  to  hear  my  voice — " 

"  It  is  pure  music  1 " 

*'  Be  good  enough,  sir — " 

"  Ah,  I  am  very  bad !  " 

"  To  listen  while  I  speak  ten  consecutive  words." 

"  Fifteen,  fifteen,"  said  the  Captain,  generously. 

"  Very  well,  sir — a  littl"  of  your  attention  also.  I  trust 
ter  words  will  be  enough." 

"  I  will  give  you  twenty-five — thirty,"  said  the  Captaia 


it>8  HOW   HENRIETTA    RETURNED   THE   NECKLACE. 

with  a  noble  and  enlarged  liberality ;  "  T  will  even  listen  if 
you  honor  me  by  conversing  throughout  the  ensuing  night." 

Henrietta  uttered  a  little  sigh,  which  meant  plainly, 
"  Was  there  ever  such  a  provoking  man  to  talk  to  !  " 

"  I  am  dreadfully  disagreeable,  I  know,"  said  the  Cap 
tain,  translating  his  companion's  sighs  into  words  as  usuaL, 
"  but  you  are  going  to  weary  me  to  death  about  that  miser 
able  necklace.  You  are  going  to  make  me  send  it  back  t'j 
the  port  of  New  York  to  have  it  altered,  re-set,  some 
thing." 

"  No,  sir." 

"  What  then  ?  " 

;<  I  wish  you  to  send  it  back  to  be  retained,  or  present  it 
to  some  one  else." 

"How  so?>? 

"  I  cannot  accept  it,  sir." 

"  Accept  1 " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Why,  you  won  it  fairly ;  it  is  the  spoils  of  a  fair  battle 
— of  your  bow  and  spear  :  you  won  it." 

"  No,  I  did  not,  Captain  Waters.  I  laid  a  very  ridicu 
lous  wager — of  a  trifle  against  a  trifle,  I  thought.  My 
stake — I  believe  that  is  the  word — was  this  curl — " 

"  Which  reminds  me  that  I  won  it  on  the  final  result ! " 
cried  the  Captain.  "  Come,  pay  your  debts,  morbleu  1  my 
dear  Madam  Henriette." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  sir,  let  me  go  on." 

"  You  have  finished  the  thirty  words,"  said  the  Captain, 
with  ready  logic.  "  My  curl !  my  curl  I  " 

Henrietta,  in  a  paroxysm  of  impatience,  pulled  down 
And  bit  the  curl  in  two,  and  threw  it  in  the  direction  of  her 
companion.  The  Captain  extended  his  hand  and  received  it 
as  it  fell. 

"  Parbleu,  'tis  far  more  valuable  than  I  expected  1  "  he 
cried ;  "  as  far  more  valuable  as  a  row  of  pearls  are  than  a 
pair  of  miserable  and  unhappy  scissors  1  " 

Henrietta  could  not  retain  a  smile  at  this  grotesque  and 
ridiculous  speech ;  which,  like  all  the  Captain's  observations, 
seemed  to  be  intended  solely  to  defer  the  subject  he  wished 
to  avoid. 

•'  I  am  pleased  to  hear  that  my  teeth  are  pearls,"  sh« 


HOW  HENRIETTA  RETURNED  THE  NECKLACE.     169 

said  ;  "  I  did  not  know  it  before,  sir.  And  now —  jut  for 
heaven's  sake  what  are  you  doing,  sir  ?  " 

The  Captain,  in  fact,  was  holding  his  sword  up  before  him, 
point  down.  He  made  no  reply,  but  touching  a  little  spring, 
opened  the  hilt,  and  deposited  the  curl  in  the  cavity.  After 
performing  this  remarkable  operation,  he  lowered  the  weapon 
again,  and  twirled  his  moustache. 

"  That  is  my  receptacle  for  title  deeds,  curls,  and  other 
valuables,  ma  foi  ! "  he  said  ;  "  that  is  to  say,  it  will  be  if 
I  ever  get  any  title  deeds.  But  I  have  made  a  good  be 
ginning  I  " 

And  he  burst  into  laughter,  significantly.  Henrietta 
chose  not  to  understand  this  laugh — perhaps  did  not — and 
said  : 

"  When  you  interrupted  me,  sir,  I  was  about  to  say  that 
I  laid  a  wager  with  you,  and  staked  what  I  considered  a 
trifle—" 

"  No,  no  !  "  interposed  the  Captain. 

"  Against  what  I  thought  was  equally  unimportant," 
continued  Henrietta. 

"  The  curl  was  much  the  more  costly,"  said  the  Captain, 
"  and  morbleu  !  I  will  not  now  exchange." 

"  You  exacted  a  promise  from  me,"  continued  Henrietta, 
not  heeding  these  interruptions,  "  that  I  would  not  open  the 
case  until  I  returned  home.  I  did  not,  thinking  it  some 
trifle.  Instead  of  a  trifle  it  is  a  magnificent  diamond  neck 
lace." 

And  opening  the  case,  she  drew  out  the  necklace,  which 
was  of  extraordinary  beauty  and  value.  The  diamonds  were 
very  large,  and  set  in  the  most  tasteful  manner.  The  bauble 
must  have  been  worth  at  least  a  thousand  guineas. 

"  Take  it,  Captain  Waters,"  said  Henrietta,  "  I  cannot 
keep  it." 

"  How  vexatious/'  said  the  Captain  very  seriously ;  <l  what 
in  the  world  am  I  to  do  with  it  ?  Besides,  I  am  not  on- 
titled  to  it — you  know  very  well  I  am  not,  madam." 

"  I  do  not  consider  the  wager  binding,  sir ;  I  cannot  ac 
cept  it." 

"  Answer,  now,  did  you  not  confess  the  other  day  at 
Effingham  Hall,"  continued  the  Captain,  readily,  "  that  I  had 
caused  you  to  break  your  own  necklace  ?  " 


170  HOW   HENRIETTA   RE1  JRNEI    THE   NECKLACE. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  Captain  looked  triumphant. 

"  But,  sir,"  said  Henrietta,  "  that  was  in  one  of  those 
piques  which  I  am  afraid  I  have  indulged  in  very  frequently 
in  your  presence." 

"  Yes,  I  am  a  terrible  annoyer !  " 

"  I  meant  to  blame  myself,  sir,"  said  the  young  girl ;  "  I 
am  somewhat  quick,  and  I  now  embrace  the  opportunity  to 
say  that  I  trust  you  will  pardon  any  harsh  words  I  have 
been  led  to  utter." 

"  Harsh  !  it  is  impossible  that  you  could  !  "  cried  the 
soldier,  delighted  at  getting  away  from  the  subject  of  the 
necklace. 

"  Very  well,  sir ;  I  am  glad  you  think  so  well  of  me. 
Now  take  the  necklace." 

And  she  held  it  out.  The  Captain  became  again  de 
spairing. 

"  Why  you  have  a  double  claim  to  it,"  he  said ;  "  first, 
I  broke  your  own;  secondly,  and  lastly,  you  have  fairly 
won  this." 

"  My  hand  is  almost  tired,  sir." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?  "  cried  the  Captain,  disconsolately ; 
'  if  I  take  that  back  to  my  house  it  will  lie  about — be  thrown 
here  and  there  ;  Lanky  will  perhaps  take  possession,  and 
Donsy  Smith  will  be  the  ultimate  possessor !  " 

With  which  words  the  Captain  groaned. 

"  Lanky  ?— Donsy  Smith  ?   Who  in  the  world  are  they  ?  " 

"  The  first  is  my  servant,  the  second  his  sweetheart," 
said  the  Captain,  ready  to  weep. 

Henrietta  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"  Do  you  really  mean  that  you  would  permit  your  ser 
vant  to  take  such  a  beautiful  necklace  ?  "  she  said,  admiring 
the  glittering  jewels. 

"  What  could  I  do  with  them  ?  "  asked  the  forlorn  sol 
dier  ;  "  besides,  I  think  they  would  become  my  honest  re 
tainer's  sweetheart — Donsy.  She  is  a  charming  little  crea 
ture  1" 

"  How  ?     Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed — very  intimately.  She  had  a  pleasant  ride 
with  me  the  other  day." 

Miss  Henrietta  imagined  a  picture  of  Captain  Waters  in 


HOW  HENRIETTA    RETURNED    THE    NECKLACE.  l7i 

the  saddle,  with  the  arms  of  a  "  charming  little  creature  * 
round  his  waist  as  she  rode  behind,  and  was  not  much 
pleased  with  the  effort  of  her  fancy. 

"  Donsy  is  a  fine,  bright  faced  girl, — very  lady-like  and 
pleasing  ;  they  would  suit  her,"  said  the  Captain,  with  a 
thoughtful  sigh.  "  Yes,  yes,  she's  a  sweet  creature,  and  I 
nearly  threw  Lanky  into  a  fever  some  weeks  since,  by  an 
nouncing  my  intention  to  enter  the  lists  as  his  rival." 

"  You,  sir  ?  "  said  Henrietta. 

This  exclamation  did  not  displease  the  Captain. 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear  madam,  even  me.  She  would  make 
me  a  capital  wife,  and  I  assure  you  I  am  becoming  tired  of 
single  blessedness.  In  one  word,  I  want  a  wife." 

Henrietta  made  no  reply. 

"  Stop  !  "  continued  the  Captain,  "  you  must  have  seen 
Donsy,  down  there  at  the  races  !  " 

"  I,  sir  ?  "  said  Henrietta,  coldly. 

"  Why,  yes  !  Do  you  not  recollect  a  lovely  little  crea 
ture,  of  seventeen  or  thereabouts,  who  won  the  finely-bound 
volumes  of  ballads  in  the  singing  match  after  the  race  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  saw  her,"  said  Henrietta,  with  the  freezing 
air  of  a  duchess. 

"  Well,  that  was  Donsy,"  said  the  Captain,  apparently 
absorbed  in  the  bright  memory,  and  fixing  his  eyes  thought 
fully  on  the  clouds. 

"  And  you  would  marry  this  little — " 

Henrietta  stopped  ;  she  could  not  find  a  word. 

"  Fairy  ?  "  suggested  the  Captain,  cheerfully  ;  "  why  I 
do  not  see  any  objection  beyond  the  affection  Lanky  bears 
her.  You  know,  my  dear  Mam'selle  Henrietta,  that  I  am 
not  of  very  excellent  family — as  opinions  go,  for,  frankly 
speaking,  I  think  I  am.  My  father  is  an  old  fishmonger, — 
the  name  applied  derisively,  you  will  recollect,  by  my  Lord 
Hamlet,  to  the  counsellor  Polonius.  Charley's  a  small  far 
mer  ;  Beatrice  was  an  actress.  Charley's  my  brother ; 
Beatrice  my  sister.  We  are  all  poor,  but  honest,"  con 
tinued  the  Captain,  laughing,  "  and  I  think  the  bon  pl^e — 
health  to  him  ! — is  the  most  honest  of  all ! " 

With  which  words  the  Captain  looked  cheerfully,  and 
with  a  fine  light  on  his  martial  features,  toward  the  west. 

Henrietta,  for  a  moment,  made  no  reply,  the  hand  hold- 


172     HOW  HENRIETTA  RETURNED  THE  NECK  -ACl. 

ing  the  necklace  hanging  at  her  side.  Then,  looking  at  the 
martial  face,  which,  with  its  high  and  proud  look,  and  its 
warlike  appendages,  towered  above  her,  flooded  with  the  red 
sunset,  brow,  and  eyes  and  cheeks, — the  brow  and  cheeks 
browned  by  sun  and  wind, — the  clear  eyes,  giving  back  the 
golden  flush  of  evening,  she  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Captain  Waters,  why  do  you  so  incessantly  allude  to 
this  subject  of  birth?  Do  you  fancy  for  a  moment,  sir, 
that  I  do  not  consider  you  as  true  a  gentleman  as  the  no 
blest  in  the  land  ?  That  I  am  blind  to  the  fact  that  you 
are  a  brave  soldier  and  a  refined  man,  worthy  of  all  respect  ? 
You  cannot  think  that  I  consider  you  ashamed  of  your 
birth  !  Why,  then,  say  this  so  often  ?  " 

"  Ashamed  of  my  birth  ?  True,  I  am  not,  my  dear 
Mam'selle  Henriette,"  said  the  Captain.  "  The  bon  p£re 
is  a  nobleman  ;  Charley's  a  seigneur — chevalier  of  the  mid 
dle  ages ;  and  Beatrice, — parbleu  I  Beatrice  is  a  born 
duchess ! " 

And  the  Captain  burst  into  laughter. 

"  We  are  all  sovereigns — for  we're  honest !  "  he  con 
tinued,  with  a  quick  change  in  his  expression  to  an  aspect 
of  noble  pride.  "  My  father,  mam'selle,  is  brave  and  hon 
est,  and  with  a  great  heart — morbleu  1  a  noble,  kindly,  gen 
erous  heart ;  I  am  indifferent  ready  with  my  hand,  to  open 
it,  or  close  it  on  a  sword  hilt, — that  is  my  profession  ;  Bea 
trice  is  a  wealthy,  golden  nature,  as  true  as  she  is  beautiful, 
as  good  and  pure  as  she  is  lovely ;  and  Charley — tonnere  ! 
my  dear  madam,  my  brother  Charley  is  one  of  those  natures 
which  are  very  seldom  met  with.  I  have  seen  dukes  and 
generals,  lords  and  ministers  ;  I  have  heard  all  talk  ;  I  have 
seen  all  speak  with  those  noble  lips,  the  eyes  :  well,  madam, 
I  have  never  met  a  more  powerful  soul  than  Charley's.  He 
has  the  strength  of  calmness ; — but  I  am  wearying  you. 
Enough — no  !  you  are  right,  my  Jear  madam,  — I,  perhaps, 
have  even  too  high  an  opinion  of  my  family  1 ' 

And,  after  this  outburst,  which,  every  word  of  it,  was 
Bpoken  with  a  proud  sincerity  which  lit  up  the  martial  fea 
tures,  like  the  sunset,  Captain  Ralph  was  silent. 

Henrietta  replied,  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  This  was  not  necessary,  sir." 

And  she  held  up  the  necklace  for  him  to  take. 


THE    TWO    TREKS.  173 

"  Oh,  heaven  preserve  me  !  I  thought  we  had  dropped 
that  subject  1  "  said  the  soldier,  resuming  his  tone  of  vexa 
tion  and  humor. 

"  I  cannot  accept  such  a  valuable  present,  sir,"  said  the 
young  girl,  with  some  embarrassment. 

"  Then  oblige  me  by  keeping  it  for  me,"  said  the  soldier 
"  I  really  have  no  receptacle  for  it." 

Henrietta  hesitated. 

"  You  need  not  wear  it,  my  dear  mam'selle,"  he  said. 

Henrietta  hesitated  still. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Captain,  "  I  suppose  Donsy  must  have 
it; — morbleu  !  'tis  vexatious,  for  here  your  name  is  engraved 
upon  it  beneath  here — at  least,  your  initials,  my  dear  Miss 
Henriette  ;  and  I  must  send  back  the  bauble  to  have  them 
erased.  See ! " 

And  pointing  to  a  small  gold  plate,  he  showed  her  the 
letters  H.  L. ;  but  these  letters  were  so  engraved  that  space 
was  left  upon  the  plate  for  another  letter. 

She  understood ;  a  deep  blush  suffused  her  face ;  her 
head  drooped. 

"  Will  you  not  keep  it  ?  "  said  the  Captain. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  in  a  lower  tone  than  she  had  yet 
spoken. 

A  brilliant  light  illuminated  the  martial  features  of  the 
soldier,  and  they  walked  on  in  silence. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THE  TWO  TEEEa 

CLARE  and  Mr.  Effingham,  as  we  have  said,  had  gone  into 
the  garden. 

He  had  quietly  taken  her  hand  in  his  with  a  calm  and 
mild  look  in  his  shadowy  eyes,  placed  the  hand  on  his  arm 
and  led  her  into  the  old  garden,  where  they  both  had  played 
in  childhood,  and  talked  merrily  in  the  old  days,  whose 
every  flower  bed,  and  row  of  trim  box,  and  towering  tree, 
was  old  and  familiar  and  dear.  And  she  had  followed  him 
with  some  slight  agitation,  but  a  soft  look  of  maiden  diffi 


174  THE    ?WO    TREES. 

dence,  which  made  her  more  beautiful  than  he  had  erer  seefl 
her  look  before. 

It  was  one  of  those  evenings  which  seem  to  unite  all  the 
freshness  of  the  spring,  all  the  gorgeous  wealth  of  summer, 
all  the  melancholy  softness  of  the  misty  autumn,  and  the 
golden  Indian  summer,  into  one  perfect  whole.  The  per 
fumed  breezes,  laden  with  the  odors  of  a  million  early  flow 
ers,  came  softly  from  the  far  south  :  the  oriole  hung  on  the 
poplar  spray,  and  sung  his  soul  away  for  joy ;  the  leaves, 
and  buds,  and  flowers,  had  all  the  tender  velvety  softness 
of  the  early  spring ;  and  over  all  the  great  sun  poured  the 
fresh  crimson  light  of  morning. 

Mr.  Effingham  walked  on  for  some  time  in  silence. 
Then,  pausing  in  a  grassy  nook,  he  pointed,  with  a  mild 
glance  at  the  young  girl,  to  two  trees  which  grew  side  by 
side. 

"  How  long  ago  it  seems  ! "  he  said,  with  a  pensive 
accent,  which  was  quite  calm  and  unaffected. 

"  Yes,"  said  Clare,  in  a  low  voice,  "  we  were  children." 

"  And  now  we  are  grown-up  people,"  said  Mr.  Effing- 
ham.  "  We  have  almost  wholly  forgotten  those  old  happy 
days  when  we  planted  those  trees, — when,  taking  your  hand 
in  mine,  I  said,  "  Clarry,  we  will  come  here  every  day  we 
live,  and  see  how  we  are  growing.  Do  you  not  remember  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured. 

"  I  at  least  have  not  kept  that  resolution ;  have  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  very  often,"  she  said,  in  the  same  low 
tone. 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment :  and  not  a  trait  of  the 
soft,  tender  face,  the  mild,  dewy  eyes,  the  innocent,  artless 
lips,  escaped  him.  She  stood  before  him  the  loving  ideal  of 
bis  dreams  ;  the  memory  he  had  summoned  in  that  evening 
musing;  the  child-enchantress  of  his  youth,  who  ever  stood 
before  his  mind's  eye,  holding  out  her  arms  to  him,  her  brow 
wreathed  round  with  flowers,  her  eyes  and  lips  murmuring, 
"  Come  !  "  He  felt  what  he  was  losing,  a  contraction  of  his 
pale  brow  proved  it,  and  the  hand  he  laid  upon  his  heart 
But  these  exhibitions  of  emotion  soon  passed  away,  and  his 
face  regained  the  calm  sadness  which  habitually  characterized 
* 

"  When  I  asked,"  he  said  mildly,  "  if  you  had  kept  that 


THE  TWO   TREES  175 

child  resolution  to  come  and  look  at  these  trees  every  day,  I 
did  not  mean  a  reproach.  Ah  no !  That  is  assuredly  not 
possible  from  me  to  you.  I  came  to  speak  to  you  quite 
calmly,  as  those  who  have  been  happy  children  together  may 
speak  to  each  other  ;  and  to  open  my  heart  to  you.  This  is 
due  to  myself.  It  will  make  me  happier,  and  I  cannot  lose 
the  occasion  to  make  my  lot  somewhat  brighter." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  continued  in  the  same  low, 
mild  voice. 

"  What  I  have  to  say  is  a  confession,  Clare — there  is  no 
harm  in  my  calling  you  by  that  name  now — a  brief  confes 
sion,  which  will  explain  much  in  my  career,  which  I  doubt  not 
has  made  you  look  unhappy  when  my  name  ever  was  men 
tioned  in  your  presence.  And  let  me  speak  first  of  those 
days  which  we  passed  here.  Now,  it  seems,  long  centuries 
ago.  I  loved  you  dearly  as  a  child :  you  were  my  saint,  my 
ideal — nay  !  Why  blush,  Clare  ?  You  must  have  known 
it  from  my  eyes ;  yes,  my  heart  spoke  to  you  much  more 
plainly  than  my  lips  could  speak.  I  say  again  you  were  my 
ideal,  all  my  world  was  full  of  you.  I  dreamed,  and  sang, 
and  thought  of  you  alone.  The  old  romances  took  a  glory 
from  your  smile,  and  I  understood  for  the  first  time  what  the 
'  love  of  ladies'  meant,  and  how  the  old  chevaliers  willingly 
perilled  life  for  their  idols.  You  gilded  my  existence  with  a 
new,  undreamed  of  light;  the  future  expanded  before  me 
like  a  boundless  horizon  where  all  the  glory  of  the  sun,  all 
the  perfume  of  the  breezes,  all  the  fairy  melodies  of  whisper 
ing  pines  and  flowers  were  mingled  into  one  harmonious  and 
perfect  ideal  of  warmth,  and  joy,  and  beauty.  I  saw  only 
you  in  the  wide  universe — you.  were  the  star  that  guided  me 
upon  my  way — you  kept  me  pure — and  your  eyes  seemed 
ever  on  me ;  still  and  calm  and  innocent  eyes  that  blessed 
me.  I  recall  you  now  so  perfectly,  that  my  frozen  heart 
beats  again  and  again.  I  am  a  child.  I  recall  all  those 
happy  days;  you  were  a  merry,  bright-eyed  child,  full  of 
tenderness  and  joy  !  and  the  breath  from  that  far  past  comes 
to  me  again — faint,  like  the  odor  of  those  spring  flowers 
yonder  in  the  grass,  but  strong  as  fate.  I  see  you  as  I  saw 
you  then — an  incarnation  of  pure  grace,  and  tender  joy,  a 
fairy  from  the  far  laud  of  dreams — my  love — my  blessing. 

"  Well,  well :  you  will  tire  of  all  this  prosing :  let  me 


176  THE    TWO    TREES. 

pass  on.  I  loved  you.  I  asked  nothing  better  than  to  live 
and  die  with  you ;  for  I  thought  I  could  not  breathe  without 
you.  I  grew  older,  and  I  loved  you  still  with  the  same  pure 
feeling,  and  the  child's  heart  was  grafted  into  the  wild  boy's 
breast ;  and  in  all  his  wild  pranks  and  dissipations  you  were 
in  his  heart,  softening  and  blessing  him,  and  making  him 
more  pure.  I  changed  for  the  worse,  somewhat — you,  if  you 
changed  at  all,  for  the  better  ;  your  childlike  innocence  waa 
all  the  more  striking  in  the  girl;  your  face  assumed  the 
tender  seriousness  of  incipient  womanhood.  I  could  not  love 
you  more  than  when  we  were  child-lovers  ;  but  I  loved  you 
with  more  strength  and  calmness.  I  thought  that  feeling 
would  remain  unchanged  through  all  shocks  and  changes. 
Well !  » 

He  paused  again,  and  looked  at  the  two  trees  thought 
fully  :  his  brow  was  slightly  overshadowed. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  mildly  still,  "I  went  to  Europe, 
that  changed  my  life,  and  made  me  lose  sight  of  my  innocent 
star.  No  longer  near  you,  I  was  a  worse,  a  less  pure  man. 
I  plunged  into  every  species  of  dissipation  ;  I  felt  developed 
in  me  that  fiery  character  which  I  inherit  from  my  race. 
Aroused,  you  know,  we  pass  all  bounds.  Draw  the  curtain 
over  that  mad  time,  when,  nominally  at  Oxford,  I  lived  in 
London  ;  that  may  be  omitted. 

"  I  returned  to  Virginia,  here,  with  the  heart  of  a  worn- 
out  gamester.  Nothing  interested  me.  I  was,  as  far  as  my 
capacity  to  enjoy  simple  things,  completely  exhausted.  Every 
thing  wearied  me ;  life  was  a  lame  and  tedious  comedy  which 
I  played  without  caring  for  the  hisses  or  the  applause.  I  passed 
my  days  in  idle  lounging ;  I  slept  long,  and  passed  my  whole 
time  in  a  terrible  mental  indolence,  the  most  dreadful  of  all. 
I  had  lost  sight  of  you — you  were  no  longer  in  my  eyes ; 
but  I  now  feel  and  know  you  were  in  my  heart. 

"  I  came  and  brought  to  you  my  weary  air  and  exhausted 
feelings.  You  did  not  draw  back  on  finding  the  man  so 
different  from  the  boy ;  you  held  out  your  hands  to  me  with 
the  old,  frank,  childish  kindness  and  affection,  and  my  heart 
was  touched.  The  past  came  back  to  me,  and  I  was  not  so 
gloomy.  That  was  the  crisis  of  my  life — the  turning  point ; 
every  thing  was  balanced  ;  a  hair  in  either  scale  would  have 
turned  it 


THE   TWO    TREES.  177 

"  Fate  decreed  that  your  innocent  face  should  not  shine 
on  me ;  a  rude  hand  struck  the  balance,  and  all  was  over. 
That  strange  young  girl  came  to  Virginia,  and  I  became  in 
fatuated.  You  know  the  unhappy  history  of  that  delirium  ; 
the  family  blood  again.  I  do  not  hold  down  my  head  and 
blush,  and  say  forgive  me — no !  I  say  that  my  actions 
were  those  of  a  madman  ;  that  I  was  infatuated  ;  that  I  now 
regard  that  whole  drama  as  some  wild  dream.  I  say  further 
that  I  have  cruelly  suffered,  that  I  have  bitterly  expiated  mj 
offence  ;  that  the  pang  that  tore  my  bosom  more  cruelly  than 
all,  was  the  thought  of  you ;  for  I  have  lost  you.  Well  1 
After  that  mad,  wild  dream,  I  went  to  Europe  again,  and  had 
my  despair  and  suffering  in  due  season,  and  then  came  home 
again  as  you  see  me,  almost  apathetic.  I  have  done  with 
feeling,  I  shall  never  love  again." 

He  stopped  ;  his  bosom  heaved :  he  went  on. 

"  My  tedious  talk,  no  doubt,  has  wearied  you ;  but  it  was 
my  duty,  Clare,  to  come  and  tell  you  by  the  trees  which  we 
planted  in  our  happy  childhood,  why  I  had  not  remained 
faithful  to  that  vow  we  made.  I  have  shown  you  how  cruelly 
I  was  tortured  by  a  mad  infatuation ;  how  my  headstrong 
passions  drove  me  to  commit  actions  which  I  regard  now 
with  horror ;  how  through  all  my  unfortunate  career,  that 
golden  childhood  I  have  spoken  of,  was  shrined  in  my  heart 
of  hearts.  There  was  no  impropriety  in  my  telling  you  this, 
for  I  know  all.  He  is  my  friend,  and  has  a  noble  heart. 
Well !  well !  I  will  try  not  to  suffer  too  greatly ;  and  here 
under  the  shade  of  these  trees  we  planted,  amid  the  scenes 
of  all  our  childhood  joys,  I  ask  God  to  bless  you,  Clare,  and 
thank  you  for  the  small  share  of  purity  I  have  left,  and  say 
to  you,  '  I  will  love  and  cherish  your  memory  always,  as  that 
of  the  tenderest  soul,  the  warmest,  purest  heart  that  ever 
was  in  human  bosom.'  No !  do  not  speak — enough ;  here 
comes  little  Kate,  who  resembles  you,  for  she  is  good  and 
;>ure.  I  have  spoken  with  difficulty ;  it  is  not  easy  to  be 
calm  when  all  one's  hopes  are  gone  for  ever  ;  it  is  better  that 
you  should  not  speak." 

And  placing  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  he  led  the  trembling 
blushing,  weeping  girl  away,  and  to  the  house.  He  was  out 
wardly  calm,  and  all  the  way  back  to  the  Hall  he  remained 
quiet  and  silent.  It  was  the  silence  of  despair  ;  that  scene 
had  overcome  him,  and  his  heart  was  faint. 
22 


178       IN  WHICH  THE  HISTORY  DESCENDS  TO  THE  LOVES 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

IN  'WHICH  THE  HI8TOET  DESCENDS  TO  THE  LOVES  OF 
AND  PHILLISES  IN  ARCADY. 

"LUGYI" 

"  Did  you  address  a  observation  to  me,  Cap'n  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  on  a  former  occasion  1  stated  that  you  were 
a  villain  and  a  wretch ;  I  now  add,  that  you  are  a  poltroon  ! 

"  Oh,  Cap'n  !  Cap'n  !  "  cried  Lanky,  who  being  wholly 
ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  poltroon,  naturally  con 
sidered  it  something  infinitely  worse  than  wretch  and  villain. 

"  Yes,  a  poltroon  !  "  continued  the  Captain,  "  and  I  will 
wager  a  hundred  pounds  that  your  benighted  ignorance  is 
such,  that  you  do  not  know  what  it  means." 

Lanky  scratched  his  head. 

"  Come  1  say  now,  you  rascal." 

"  A  poltroon  ?  "  said  Lanky,  studying  the  table  ;  "  is  it 
an  individual  who  is  broke  into  a  hen-roost,  and  wringed  the 
necks  of  the  cock-a-doodle-doo's,  Cap'n  ?  " 

"  No,  you  villain :  you  will  never  guess,  at  that  rate." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Lanky,  "  it's  a  feller  who  plays  upon  the 
fiddle  and  don't  know  how  1" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  I  give  it  up,  Cap'n  :  but  I  ain't  a  poltroon — 1 
ain't — that  is.  if  it's  any  thing  bad,  leastways  very  bad." 

And  Lanky  was  silent. 

This  conversation  took  place  three  or  four  days  after  the 
scenes  we  have  just  related,  in  the  mansion  of  the  Captain. 
The  sun  was  declining — it  was  a  pleasant  afternoon,  and  the 
waves  of  the  James  were  lapping  with  a  long  swell  upon  the 
shore  beneath  the  cottage.  The  Captain  occupied  his  habi 
tual  seat,  formerly  used  by  old  John  Waters,  and  smoked  his 
meerschaum ;  Lanky  sat  doubled  up  upon  his  cricket,  his 
hands  clasped  around  his  knees,  his  fine  new  fiddle  lying  near ; 
bis  pine-knot  head,  and  enormous  feet,  and  striped  stockings 
and  brilliant  fustian  waistcoat,  all  illuminated  by  the  joy 
shining  from  his  eyes.  Something  had  evidently  occurred 
very  pleasing  to  Lanky,  and  his  thoughts  were  plainly  agree 
able  thoughts 


OP   CORYDONS   AND   PHILLISES   IN    ARCADt  179 

After  his  reply  to  the  Captain,  Lanky  would  have  conti 
nued  his  meditations,  but  this  his  master  was  by  no  means 
willing  to  permit. 

"  You  say,"  continued  the  soldier,  pouring  forth  a  cloud 
of  snowy  smoke,  "  that  my  charge  against  you,  you  scara 
mouch,  cannot  be  any  thing  bad, — '  leastways  very  bad,'  as 
your  elegant  dialect  has  it.  Now,  sir,  I  will  let  you  know 
that  '  poltroon  '  is  not  a  flattering  expression.  It  means  a 
coward,  sir  1  " 

"  Oh  me !  a  coward,  Cap'n  1 " 

"  Yes." 

"  Me  a  coward  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  understand,  sir,  you  are  pluming  yourself  upon 
overcoming  one  of  the  clergy  the  other  day.  Are  you  not 
ashamed,  you  villain,  to  attack  a  holy  man  in  the  conscien 
tious  discharge  of  his  dignified  and  ennobling  duty  of  train 
ing  up  the  youthful  intellect  in  the  paths  of  virtue  and 
exalted  purity  ?  " 

And  having  addressed  this  stern  reproach  to  Lanky,  the 
Captain  smoked  faster  than  ever.  Lanky's  face  assumed  an 
expression  of  consternation. 

"  Why,  Cap'n,"  he  said,  "  you  called  him  a  gobmoush, 
yourself !  " 

The  Captain  frowned. 

"  I  am  not  you,  sir,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am  surprised  that 
you  place  yourself  on  a  level  with  me.  The  parson  was  an 
old  fellow-soldier,  and  we  can  interchange  these  small  com 
pliments  ;  but  you,  sir,  are  bound  to  regard  him  as  a  noble 
spiritual  guide." 

Lanky  scratched  his  head. 

4 1  say  you  are  a  poltroon,  you  rascal,"  continued  his 
master,  "  in  spite  of  your  ferocious  attack  upon  i  man  only 
armed  with  a  stick  of  wood,  while  you  had  a  sword." 

"  Oh !  Cap'n,  he  was  a-presumin'  to  threaten  Donsy." 

"  There — that  is  where  you  are  a  coward." 

"  Ob,  sir  1 " 

"  Donsy  is  the  word." 

«  Cap'n  ?  " 

"  Ah  1  you  don't  understand.  Well,  sir,  I  say  that  you 
are  a  coward  because  you  have  not  attacked  and  reduced  to 
submission  that  citade}." 


180        IN  WHICH  THE  HISTORY  DESCENDS  TO  THE  LOVES 

"  Me,  Cap'n  ?  "  said  Lanky,  with  a  self-satisfied  smile,  like 
the  sunshine  on  a  pine  knot. 

"  Yes,  sir  and  that  in  spite  of  every  thing  I  have  done  for 
you." 

Lanky  smiled  again. 

"  I  gave  you  a  seat  in  my  coach  by  your  sweetheart, — 1 
drank  some  execrable  rum  for  your  sake  at  that  Mr.  A.  Z. 
Smith's,  the  villain ;  I  have  done  my  best,  opened  the 
trenches,  fixed  the  scaling  ladders,  and  when  the  word  to  ad 
vance  upon  the  fortress  is  passed  to  you,  morbleu  1  you 
hang  fire,  and  lie  down  in  despair  like  a  sleepy  dog.' 

Lanky  burst  out : 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  done  it ! " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  fit  it  out,"  observed  Lanky,  triumphantly 

"  Speak,  you  scaramouch  !  how  have  you  done — have  you 
really  charged  the  enemy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir — leastways,  I  been  a-courting  Donsy,"  said 
Lanky,  with  simplicity. 

The  Captain  burst  into  laughter. 

"  Have  you  really  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes  I  is,  Cap'n." 

"  Tell  me  how  it  was,  and  if  I  find  that  you  have  acquit 
ted  yourself  bravely,  I'll  retract  that  unjust  aspersion  on 
your  courage." 

Lanky  seemed  nowise  averse  to  complying  with  this  re 
quest,  and  said : 

"  You  know,  Cap'n,  Donsy  and  me  had  a  nice  Saturday 
together,  after  the  things  'at  took  place  at  the  Oldfield 
school." 

"  Do  I  know  it  ?  not  a  whit  of  it,  master  scaramouch. 
Speak." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Lanky,  with  an  expression  of  modest 
pride  at  his  own  generalship,  "  we  had  a  nice  fish  that  day, 
and  we  had  a  walk,  yestiddy,  down  in  the  woods." 

"  You  unconscionable  rascal — not  content  with  water 
scenery,  you  must  explore  the  woodland,  too." 

"  Yes,  Cap'n  :  that's  just  what  we  did ;  we  'splored  the 
woodlan'.  Ou  the  previous  'casion  we  had  a  good  time;  but 
oh,  Cap'n,  that  wa'ut  nothin'  to  the  other." 

"  You  had  a  pleasant  fishing  frolic,  did  you  ?  " 


OP    CORYDONS    AND    PHILLISES    IN    ARCADY.  181 

"  Yes,  sur  ;  'fore  we  went  away  in  the  fine  coach,  Donsy 
ind  me  made  a  bargain  to  go  on  the  next  day  a-fishin'  to 
gether.  Well,  Cap'n,  we  went  thar — and  I  'tacked  the  enemy 
all  the  time.  I  remembered  what  you  told  me,  sur,  and  I  kept 
my  chin  up  and  my  eyes  straight — for,  you  see,  havin'  reskied 
Donsy  from  the  parson.  I  was  proud." 

"  Very  well,  sir." 

"  Donsy  did'nt  laugh  at  me  much,  I  tell  you ;  but  she 
was  quite  still,  an'  good,  an'  we  fished  all  day ;  and  when  we 
come  back,  she  giv'  me  both  her  hands,  and  said,  in  her  nice 
little  voice,  '  Come  again,  soon,  Lanky.'  I  feel  like  a  villain 
talkin'  'bout  it,"  continued  Lanky,  "  but  you  ain't  hard  to 
talk  to,  Cap'n." 

The  Captain  appreciated  this  compliment  and  smoked  on. 

"  Then  como  the  races,"  continued  Lanky,  "  and  you 
know,  sur,  me  and  Donsy  both  got  a  prize  ;  she  got  the  quire 
of  ballads,  an'  I  got  the  fiddle." 

"  Well,  sir." 

"  I  got  the  stockin's,  too,  said  Lanky,  proudly,  "  and  they 
was  to  be  giv'  up  to  the  han'somest  girl  upon  the  ground. 
'Course,  sir,  I  giv'  'em  to  Donsy.  1  did." 

"  Of  course ;  I'd  have  liked  to  have  seen  you  presume  to 
give  them  to  any  one  else." 

"  Well,  sur,"  continued  Lanky,  embracing  his  knees  and 
not  heeding  this  interruption,  "  Donsy  liked  that,  and  I  think 
it  made  a  impression  on  her,  Cap'n.  'Tai'nt  every  day  that 
girls  get  silk  stockin's,  I  tell  you,  and  they  like  'em  ac- 
cordin'." 

"  A  profound  remark,  sir,"  said  the  Captain,  "  and  quite 
true.  I  admire  the  moral  and  philosophic  sentiments  with 
which  you  adorn  your  discourse,  Lanky ;  you  are  a  man  of 
sense." 

Lanky  received  this  compliment  with  a  modest  expression, 
as  who  should  say,  "  Well,  I  believe  I  am,"  and  so  con 
tinued  : — 

"  Them  stockin's  walked  into  her  'factions,  Cap'n." 

"  You  mean,  sir,  that  she  donned  the  said  stockings  and 
walked  into  yours,  eh  ?  "  said  the  Captain. 

"  Oh,  sur,  she  done  that  long  before  I.  giv'  her  the  stock 
in's." 

"  Well,  proceed." 


1  82        IN  WHICH  THE  HISTORY  DESCENDS  TO  THE  LOVES 

"  She  smiled  so  sweet  on  me  that  day,  sur,"  continued 
Lanky,  proudly,  "  that  I  thought  I'd  make  a  'pintment  with 
her,  and  put  tbe-question  'mediately." 

"  Quite  right,  Lanky." 

"I  thought  I  heard  somethin'  a  sayin'  to  me,  '  Go  in, 
Lanky — go  in  an'  win ; '  I'm — " 

"  Exactly  what  every  great  man  would  tell  you — not  ex 
cepting  the  grand  Frederic." 

Lanky  was  proud  of  this  comparison,  and  proceeded : 

"  So  I  tol'  Donsy  I  was  comin'  next  Saturday — bein'  last 
Saturday,  sur — to  walk  with  her  in  the  woods  and  play  my 
fiddle." 

"  Ah,  you  rascal !  not  content  with  personating  Mars, 
the  god  of  war — you  are  ambitious  to  excel  Apollo,  the  god 
of  music." 

Lanky  felt  prouder  still  at  this  nobler  compliment  than 
the  first. 

"  Well,  Bur,"  said  Lanky,  u  she  said  she  would — and 
promised  to  bring  her  quire  o'  ballads ;  it's  mighty  purty, 
sur,  an's  got  a  picture  in  the  front  that  beats  the  world — all 
of  lovely  ladies  an'  han'some  gentlemanses  a  playin'  in  the 
woods." 

"  Ah— really  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sur  ;  and  they've  got  long  waistses,  and  carry 
things  with  a  crook  at  the  top,  and  ribbons  are  flutterin' 
every  where,  and  they  are  a  smilin'  an'  simperin'  an' — makin1 
love,"  added  Lanky,  after  hesitating  a  moment. 

"  Making  love  !  that's  why  you  like  the  Corydons  and 
Phillises  so  much  !  Go  on,  sir." 

"  Well,  Cap'n,"  continued  Lanky,  clasping  his  hands 
round  his  knees,  twirling  his  thumbs  one  over  the  other  de 
lightedly,  and  gazing  at  his  feet,  "  well,  sur,  me  an'  Donsy 
went — and  oh  !  we  had  such  a  time.  Would  you  b'lieve 
me,  she  had  brought  a  whole  bundle  of  red  ribbons ;  and 
when  we  got  to  where  we  was  to  eat  the  snack — " 

"  Snack  1  you  horrible  and  atrocious  wretch  1  Did  you 
mix  up  snack  with  love  ?  Lanky,  you  are  a  dreadful  fel 
low  I  " 

"  Oh,  sur,  you  know  we  was  hungry;  but  Donsy  didn't 
eat  much — nuther  did  I :  and  she  only  nibbled  off  a  littlf 
piece  o'  biscuit,  like  a  pretty  mouse,  you  know,  Cap 'a." 


Ofr   COfcYDONS   AND   PH1LL1SES    IN    ARCADY.  IBS 

"  Rascal  i  to  compare  your  sweetheart  to  a  mouse  I  " 

"  A  vreUy  mouse,  Cap'n,"  said  Lanky,  correcting  his 
maste  ,  "  but,  howsomdever,  I'll  go  on.  I  broke  a  cake  in 
two,  and  says  I,  '  Donsy,  that's  my  heart,  if  you  won't  lovft 
me.'  She  laughed,  and  took  a  cake  and  eat  it  like  a  heart. 
'  This  is  mine,  Lanky,'  says  she,  blushin.'  '  May  I  have  it  ?' 
says  I ;  and  she  didn't  take  away  her  hand,^-only  she 
started  up,  droppin'  the  cake  into  my  hand." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  it,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  eat  it,  sur,"  said  Lanky,  with  great  simplicity. 

"  Go  on !  "  said  the  Captain,  shaking  with  laughter. 

"  Donsy  started  up  first  an'  told  me  she  would  sing,  and 
I  must  then  play.  Oh  !  what  a  voice  she's  got,  sur  1  It 
makes  me  feel  like  honey  was  a  droppin'  down  from  the  sky, 
and  a  feller  had  his  mouth  open  1 " 

"  A  fine  sentiment,"  said  the  Captain,  generously. 

"  Well,  sur,  then  I  played  my  fiddle,  and  you  may  be 
sure  I  made  it  say,  '  Donsy,  I'm  a  dyin'  for  you.'  I  didn't 
play  any  but  the  mournful  chunes,  an'  I  made  'em  talk  to 
her,  and  she  understood,  for  she  sort  o'  blushed,  sur.  Well, 
I  got  through,  an'  then  Donsy,  laughin',  took  up  the  rib 
bon,  an'  pointin'  to  the  picture  in  the  book,  said  I  must 
have  ribbon  knots  tied  all  over  me,  sur.  I  didn't  keer,  an' 
she  tied  'em — on  my  coat,  my  breast,  my  elbows,  my  hair  : 
and  then  she  did  herself  so  too.  Oh,  sur,  how  she  looked  1 
I  felt  a  sort  o'  tremblin'  when  I  saw  her  beautiful  hair  all 
flutterin'  with  ribbons ;  the  body  of  her  dress  covered ; 
her  shoes  with  big  rosettes  in  'em  ;  and,  if  a  feller  might  be 
allowed  to  say  it,  the  silk  stockin's  I  giv'  her,  on.  Oh  1  she 
looked  so  bright  an'  red  an'  laughin' ;  and  when  she  give  me 
a  sort  o'  crooked  thing,  and  took  one  herself,  she  looked  like 
the  lady  in  the  picture.  She  stopped  a  little  then,  an'  I  see 
her  blush.  '  You  shall  be  my  shepherd,  Lanky,'  she  said, 
in  her  melojus  voice — and  I  answered  quick  as  lightnin', 
'  Then  you  must  be  my  shepherdess,  my  dear  Miss  Donsy,' 
and  she  blushed  agin !  I  knew  the  time  had  come,  sur," 
cried  Lanky ;  "  I  recollected  your  advice,  an'  I  put  the 
question  right  to  her  1 — and  made  her  a  speech  ! — and  it's 
all  arranged  1 — and  she's  agreed  to  marry  me  ! — and  she's 
the  sweetest  creatur  in  the  world  I — and  I  love  her  to  dia- 


184  VISITORS. 

traction  ! — and  I  feel  like  a  villain,  and  a  rascal,  and  a  hen 
roost  thief  for  tellin'  'bout  it ! — and — " 

Lanky  burst  into  tears,  and  swayed  about,  and  laughed 
and  cried.  The  recollection  of  his  happiness  had  brought 
on  an  access  of  joyful  tears  in  the  honest  fellow :  and  the 
Captain  laughed  no  longer  at  him. 

"  Lanky,"  said  he,  "  if  the  Corydons  and  Phillises  of 
antiquity  were  as  honest  lads  and  lasses  as  you  and  Donsy, 
the  old  Arcadian  days  were  truly  happy  1 " 

And  Lanky  only  said  : 

«0h,  Cap'nl" 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

VI8ITOK8, 

CAPTAIN  RALPH  did  not  laugh  at  Lanky  again,  for  he  re 
spected  the  sincerity  and  truth  of  his  rude,  boorish  retain 
ers,  highly.  He  knew  that  Lanky,  at  that  moment,  loved 
Donsy  as  purely  and  delicately  as  the  highest  gentleman  in 
the  land — and  one  of  Captain  Ralph's  rules  was,  never  to 
deride  sincere  emotion. 

"  Well  now,  Lanky,"  he  said,  "  you  tell  me  that  Donsy 
has  consented  to  marry  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sur,"  said  Lanky,  in  an  inarticulate  tone. 

"  Are  you  fixed  to  marry  ?  " 

"  I'm  'fraid  not,  sur." 

"  Hum !  " 

"  But  Donsy  says  she'll  wait  a  thousand  years  for  me, 
sur." 

"  That  would  be  too  long,"  said  his  master. 

"  I  know  she'd  do  it,  sur." 

"  No  doubt :  but  then  she  would  be  a  thousand  and 
seventeen  years  old  ;  much  too  antique  to  enter  into  matri 
mony.  She  is  seventeen,  eh  ?  " 

"  Nearly  eighteen,  sur." 

"  And  you  ?  » 

"  I  was  nineteen  last  month,  sur." 

"  All  right,  morbleu !  and  now,  what  would  you  say  if  I 
pet  you  up  in  the  world  ?  " 


VISITORS.  186 

**  Oh,  Cap'n  1  "  cried  Lanky — literally  cried. 

"  That  would  be  an  expressive  observation,"  said  the  sol 
dier,  looking  kindly  at  his  retainer  ;  "  but  I  mean  how  would 
you  like  to  farm  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sur !  " 

"  You  mean  you  would  like  it  very  well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Cap'n  !  me  an'  Donsy  would — " 

And  then  the  honest  fellow  stopped,  unable  to  proceed  : 
the  splendid  vision  overcame  him. 

"  Suppose  I  were  to  give  you  a  lease  of  the  cottage  here, 
with  all  appurtenances — carts  and  every  thing — the  fifty 
acres,  and  the  boats :  the  rent  to  be  paid  out  of  the  pro 
ceeds  at  your  leisure  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sur  !  " 

The  Captain  smiled. 

"  Do  you  think,  however,  that  Smith  will  consent  ?  " 

"  I  dn'no,  Cap'n." 

"  Have  you  asked  him  ?  " 

"  For  Donsy  ?  no,  sur." 

The  Captain  shook  his  head. 

"  I'm  as  good  as  he  is,  sur,"  said  Lanky,  proudly  ;  "  an' 
my  mother  was  a  real  lady,  sur — old  farmer  Brock's 
daughter.  I  never  could  git  to  talk  right — but  I  loved  her, 
sur,  mor'n  any  thing.  That's  what  Donsy  said,  sur — saya 
she,  '  Lanky,  I  like  you  because  you  loved  your  mother  so : ' 
that's  what  she  said,  sur." 

And  Lanky  cried. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  Captain, "  listen  now.  I  will 
try  and  get  friend  Smith  to  consent.  Don't  be  cast  down, 
mon  ami — there  is  no  reason.  Diable  /  many  an  honest 
fellow  has  had  harder  times  than  that  to  get  his  sweetheart. 
I  repeat  that  I'll  try  and  make  Donsy's  bon  pere  give  his 
assent.  And  now,  I  return  to  the  cottage." 

"  Oh,  sur  1  " 

"  I  want  some  splendid  palace  to  live  in.  Diable !  what 
is  life  worth  if  one  is  not  an  emperor  ?  " 

Lanky  nods  affirmatively. 

"  I  must  have  an  empire  !  " 

Lanky  nods  again,  quite  sure  that  if  his  master  really 
wants  it,  the  empire — which  is  an  ambiguous  thing  to  hiui-- 
will  assuredly  come. 


186  VISITORS. 

l>  Having  bought  a  chariot  and  horses,  I  naturally  want 
some  place  to  put  them  in,"  continued  his  master,  smoking. 

"  Oh  yes,  Cap'n." 

"  Perhaps,  like  you,"  continued  the  soldier,  "  I  may 
some  day,  get  a  wife  :  I  am  wearying  of  this  bachelor  exist 
ence — and  who  knows  what  may  happen  ?  " 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  echoed  Lanky,  philosophically. 

"  Therefore,  I  may  give  up  the  cottage  for  the  time  :  the 
bon  pe"re  and  Charley  are  with  Beatrice  up  there,  and  when 
they  wrote  spoke  highly  of  the  la»d,  and  wished  to  remain : 
strange  they  have  not  written  lately,"  added  the  soldier,  his 
clear  eye  looking  toward  the  west. 

"  The  mail  ain't  safe,  sur." 

"  Yes  :  that  accounts  for  it.  Well,  all  this  goes  to  ex 
plain,  Lanky,  that  I  shall  probably  become  an  emperor — and 
then,  I  promise  you  this  place  as  long  as  you  want  it,  at  a 
nominal  rent,  to  pay  when  you  can — to  the  bon  p£re. 
Should  he  wish  to  return  here,  you  must  pack  up  and  go, 
bag  and  baggage  :  but  don't  fear,  I  will  provide  for  you." 

"  Oh,  Cap'n,  you  are  mighty  good  to  me  1 "  said  Lanky, 
gratefully. 

"  Good  to  you  ?  parbku !  no  retainer  of  mine  shall  ever 
Buffer." 

"  Donsy  '11  be  delighted,  sur." 

"  Parbleu !  I  almost  envy  you  your  bride  !  "  laughed 
the  Captain  ;  "  she  is  a  charming  little  creature." 

"  Then  she's  so  good,  Cap'n." 

"  Yes,  I  don't  doubt  it." 

"  Are  you  goin'  to  get  married,  sur  ?  " 

The  Captain  laughed. 

"  Doubtful  1 "  he  said. 

"  The  lady  '11  git  the  kindest  sort  o'  husban,"  said  Lan 
ky,  with  grateful  sincerity. 

"  Now,  sir,  you  flatter  me  1 " 

"  Oh  no,  sur." 

"  You  say  the  lady. 

"  Yes,  sur  1 "  said  Lanky ;  "  the  finest  lady  in  the  land 
needn't  be  'shamed  to  marry  you,  sur  1 " 

"  Why,  dear  Lanky,  perpend  I  You  are  as  good  aa  I 
Ma." 

M  Oh,  Cap'n  1 " 


UTOPIAN   DREAMS.  18? 

"  All  honest  men  are  worthy ;  and,  morlleu  !  I  think 
Donsy  will  have  in  you  a  better  husband  than  she  would 
find  in  me.  1  am  a  roving  soldier,  clattering  along,  always 
ready  for  the  field,  morbleu !  and  impatient  of  control :  while 
you — you  are  a  most  respectable  looking  citizen,  with  that 
splendid  pine-knot  head,  and  see-saw  movement.  Basta  ! 
you  will  become  a  squire ; — but  who  comes  here?  two  horse 
men  at  the  door  !  Diable  ! — see  to  them  ! " 

And  Captain  Ralph  rose.     In  fact,  two  gentlemen  ha 
reined  in  at  his  door:    they  now  dismounted,  and  Lanky 
holding  their  horses,  with  many  bows,  came  toward  the  cot 
tage  door. 

The  Captain  met  them  on  the  threshold. 


CHAPTER     XXX. 

UTOPIAN  DBEAM8. 

HE  who  came  first,  was  a  man  of  about  thirty,  bmt  looking 
much  older.  In  his  keen  eye  could  easily  be  discovered  the 
strong  and  excitable  character  of  his  intellect :  across  his 
high  forehead  extended  the  lines  of  incessant,  brooding, 
anxious  thought :  around  his  grim  mouth,  were  two  semi 
circular  furrows,  which  gave  a  rigid  and  iron-like  expression 
to  the  whole  lower  portion  of  his  face.  Captain  Ralph 
needed  but  a  glance  at  this  man,  who  was  clad  in  a  suit  of 
plum-color,  with  silk  stockings,  and  who  wrapped  himself  in 
an  old  red  cloak,  to  perceive  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of 
one  of  those  born  leaders,  who  burn  up,  with  the  fires  of  their 
genius,  all  that  opposes  itself  to  them. 

His  companion  was  taller,  and  carried  himself  with  ele 
gant  simplicity.  His  eye  was  mild  and  benevolent — the 
features  comely,  and  full  of  character — his  head  covered 
with  a  curling  flaxen  wig,  and  his  dress  plain,  but  rich. 

The  man  in  the  red  cloak  came  forward,  and  made  a  curt 
ducking  movement  with  his  head,  and  extended  his  hand. 
The  captain  grasped  it  hospitably,  and  then,  in  the  same 
manner  shook  hands  with  his  smiling  companion,  whose 
greeting  was  very  plain  and  courteous. 


188  UTOPIAN   DRBADtS. 

"Gail  Mr.  Charles  Waters  have  gone  elsewhere  to  live?* 
said  the  man  in  the  red  cloak,  sitting  down,  and  speaking  in 
a  strong,  rough  voice  of  sincerity  and  open  plainness,  "  I 
came  to  visit  him,  sir." 

"  My  brother — iny  name  is  Ralph  Waters,  sir,  a  captain 
in  his  Majesty's  Prussian  corps,  formerly,"  explained  the 
soldier ;  "  my  brother  is  now  residing  in  the  mountains,  and 
will  regret  not  seeing  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  man  in  the  red  cloak,  "  we  are  oW 
friends." 

The  other  visitor  had,  meanwhile,  taken  his  seat  in  a 
corner,  and  with  a  courteous,  "  Will  you  permit  me,  sir  ?  " 
to  Captain  Ralph,  in  his  clear,  silvery  voice,  had  betaken 
himself  to  perusing  a  legal  record.  "  I  trust  the  urgency  of 
my  business  will  excuse  this  seeming  discourtesy,  sir,"  he 
added,  "  I  am  much  pressed  for  time  in  a  very  important 
case." 

And  soon  his  smiling  face  was  buried  in  his  record. 

The  Captain  turned  again  to  the  man  in  the  red  cloak. 

"  I  think  we  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  at  the 
Raleigh  tavern,  formerly,  man  ami !  "  he  said,  "  pray  were 
you  not  there  in  the  autumn  of  '63  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  his  visitor,  "  and  I  now  recollect  you." 

"  Charley  has  spoken  of  you  frequently ;  and  even  has 
used  some  very  extravagant  terms  in  praise  of  your  acute 
and  vigorous  intellect." 

The  stranger  smiled  grimly :  the  circles  around  his 
mouth  growing  deeper. 

"  Did  he  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Morbleu  !  yes  !  he  was  quite  extravagant — though  ob 
serve,  companion,  I  do  not  say  that  he  was  too  much  so.' 

"  You  are  complimentary." 

"  I  never  compliment." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  will  then  return  you  my  own  opinion  of 
Mr.  Waters.  I  found  him  one  of  those  clear,  vigorous 
minds,  which  carry  all  before  them — in  debate,  in  thought, 
in  battle,  whether  that  battle  be  of  words,  or  of  swords.  He 
will  harden  into  an  intellectual  giant.  I  tested  him." 

"  Ah,  you  have  a  keen  eyel"  said  Captain  Ralph,  twirl 
ing  his  moustache,  "  you  are,  peradventure,  some  sorcerer 
who  can  read  men's  minds  by  merely  looking  at  them." 


trroriAN  DREAMS.  189 

11  In  a  degree,  sir." 

"  And  when  you  hear  them  talk,"  continued  the  Captain 
laughing,  "  what  then  ?  " 

"  I  have  found  out  as  much  of  them  as  I  need." 

"  Diable  !  'tis  a  great  talent.  Say,  now,  what  do  you 
find  in  me,  sir? — for  you  have  both  seen  me,  and  hear  me 
talking  now." 

"  I  do  not  pretend  to  sorcery,  Captain  Waters,"  said  the 
stranger,  in  his  strong,  rough  voice,  "  but  I  think  I  can 
divine  your  character,  without  much  difficulty." 

"  Ah,  well !  speak  then,  sir :  I  assure  you,  you  interest 
me  greatly." 

"  You  are  frank,  sir." 

"  Ah,  morbleu!  I  believe  I  am." 

"  Perfectly  sincere." 

«  Thanks,  thanks  I  " 

"  And  you  would  strike  in  a  good  cause  with  that  sword 
upon  the  table,  until  it  fell  from  your  hand." 

"Ma fail  so  I  would." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  read  that  very  clearly  in  your  face — in 
your  eye — in  your  lip ;  for  they  are  all  full  of  martial  fire 
and  frankness.  Beyond  this,  I  cannot  speak :  but  I  saw 
more  in  your  brother,  for  I  knew  him  longer." 

"  Ah  !  well,  speak  now  of  him  !  " 

"  Willingly  ;  it  gives  me  pleasure :  for  I  found  in  that 
young  man,  sir,  the  mind  I  had  been  looking  for  to  help  me 
in  the  work  which  I  see  before  me.  I  gauged  him  from  the 
first,  and  my  object  from  that  moment  was,  to  dive  into  the 
depths  of  his  soul,  to  study  line  by  line,  joint  by  joint,  ar 
ticulation  after  articulation,  the  character  of  his  genius.  We 
went  to  the  root  of  government — he  taught  me :  I  com 
menced  by  laughing — I  ended  by  feeling  the  flood  in  my 
eyes  as  he  spoke.  I  studied  that  young  man,  and  I  think  I 
understood  him." 

"  Why  he  is  as  open  and  transparent  as  the  day :  your 
study  was  thrown  away,  it  seems  to  me,  man  ami  !  " 

"  No,  sir:  and  the  proof  is  that  I  wished  to  talk  farther 
with  him,  for  which  reason  I  came  by  with  .my  friend  from 
Caroline.  No,  sir,  you  are  mistaken  ;  that  young  man  ia 
not  transparent,  or,  if  so,  'tis  the  transparency  of  the  tropical 
seas,  where  the  eye  oierces  hundreds  of  feet,  to  the  far 


190  JTOPIAN    DREAMS. 

depths  which  seem  rery  calm,  till  the  wind  lashea  them  to 
fury.  There  is  the  man  in  that  illustration,  sir,"  said  the 
stranger,  drawing  his  old  red  cloak  about  him,  and  appearing 
to  take  a  peculiar  delight  in  speaking  of  Charles  Waters, 
"  very  calm,  very  pure,  very  simple  and  limpid,  so  to  speak : 
but  once  roused,  I  fancy  he  would  be  more  dangerous  than 
the  most  furious — as  the  calm  sea,  lashed  by  the  wind,  be 
comes  more  fatal  than  the  noisiest  brook.  His  weakness 
however,  in  one  point,  was  great — in  his  heart.  That  is  too 
soft  and  easy :  it  will  interfere  with  him  in  the  struggle,  I 
foresee.  But  the  intellect,  the  reason,  ah !  sir,  that  is  so 
powerful  in  its  humility,  so  strong  in  its  weakness,  that  I 
predict  it  will  grow  up  gigantic,  if  God  spares  him  for 
twenty  years.  At  present — excuse  me,  sir,  but  I  find  a 
strange  pleasure  in  speaking  of  that  man — at  present,  his 
mind  is  in  the  transition  state :  he  is  too  full  of  love  for 
humanity,  not  to  say  it  profanely  ; — he  wants  hardness :  his 
ideas  are  too  grand,  he  cannot  bend  them  down  to  common 
things  wholly — he  cannot  mount  step  by  step  upon  that  lad 
der  which  reaches  to  the  sky — he  would  soar.  As  a  proof 
of  this  I  have  but  to  mention  his  political  theory :  will  you 
listen,  sir  ?  " 

"  Parbleu !  I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  talk,"  cried  the 
Captain,  "  and  yours  is  a  face,  mon  ami,  which  promises 
ideas." 

The  stranger  smiled  grimly. 

"  I  am  only  a  poor  member  of  the  House  of  Burgesses," 
he  said,  "  but  let  me  tell  you  one  of  Charles  Waters's  grand 
ideas ;  those  grand  ideas,  as  I  said,  are  his  weakness.  He 
commences  by  saying  that  the  present  bond  with  England 
cannot  last — " 

"  The  devil  I  "  are  you  sure  of  that,  companion  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  sir,  but  to  continue.  Next,  Mr.  Water* 
uses  the  word  Republic." 

"  A  grand  word,  but — " 

And  the  Captain  shook  his  head. 

"  Next,  while  I  listen  attentively,  he  begins  to  speak  of 
that  republic,  and  his  scheme  is,  that  the  free  white  people 
who  have  reached  their  majority,  should  wield  all  power." 

"  I  doubt  the  feasibility  of  that,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Next,"  continued  the  stranger,  '  ae  explains  the  re- 


UTOPIAN    DREAMS.  .ii 

public  which  he  imagines.  Follow  me  now,  sir — that  is  his 
idea.  The  people  shall  elect  the  sheriffs,  the  clerks  of  courts, 
the  justices,  the  burgesses,  even  the  governor  of  the  State." 

The  Captain  again  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  That  is  not  all,"  said  the  stranger,  "  he  has  gone  further. 
Virginia,  he  assumes,  will  not  be  the  only  colony  which 
will  cast  off  the  chains.  All  the  rest  will  follow — all  as  far 
north  as  Massachusetts,  which  will  arm  its  very  slaves  against 
England.  Then,  sir — for  with  his  grand  confidence,  he  as 
sumes  our  success  in  the  struggle — then  he  has  arranged 
what  he  styles  the  federation  of  the  colonies,  in  the  shape  of 
a  league  offensive  and  defensive,  to  be  known  as  one  nation, 
as  the  '  Federated  Colonies,'  or  the  '  United  States,'  or  by 
some  other  name  which  shall  denote  the  terms  of  the  com 
pact.  And  now  mark  the  conclusion  of  his  scheme.  Having 
made  all  offices  and  dignities  spring  from  the  people  in  this 
colony  of  Virginia,  he  says  that  the  officers  of  this  federated 
government  should  also  be  elected  by  votes.  He  would  have 
a  great  supreme  justice  of  the  peace,  to  be  called  a  protector 
or  president ;  a  great  senate,  and  a  lower  house,  also  elected 
by  the  people ;  a  great  national  court,  also  elected  by  the 
people ;  one  grand  national  organization,  partaking  of  the 
character  of  an  empire,  and  a  league  of  sovereign  countries. 
His  Utopia  is  complete,  perfect,  not  a  rod  or  a  wheel  want 
ing  in  the  machine,  not  a  flaw  iu  the  work ;  it  is  only  a  pity 
that  'tis  but  a  Utopia,  for  of  course  such  a  monstrosity  can 
never  exist." 

The  stranger  paused  a  moment,  then  added  : 

"  This  is  one  of  the  grand  weaknesses  of  Mr.  Waters 
which  I  mentioned,  sir ;  those  splendid  Utopian  ideas  which 
will  disappear  as  his  intellect  matures,  leaving  it  all  steel. 
But  I  have  even  respect  for  his  fallacies,  for  they  spring  from 
a  man  of  trained  intellect,  and  impassioned,  political  genius. 
Y"es,  sir,  from  a  brain  of  rare  fertility,  and  power,  and 
strength,  for  it  is  humble  ;  from  a  soul  that  goes  up  to  the 
upper  air,  and  looks  down  calmly  above  the  mist  and  rain. 
The  hours  spent  with  him  impressed  me  so  profoundly,  thai 
I  have  come  hither  to  say  to  him,  '  Now  is  the  time,  sir — 
this  is  the  crisis — you  promised  to  assist  me — keep  that 
promise.' " 

w  To  what  do  you  refer  ?  "said  the  Captain,"  to  politics  ? " 


192  UTOPIAN    DREAMS. 

"  Assuredly." 

"  The  stamp  act  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

<{  You  believe  it  will  pass  ?  " 

:t  I  know  it." 

"  And  you  count  on  Charles  to  render  you  assistance  c 
Borne  description  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  a  great  assistance." 

The  Captain  shook  his  head ;  the  stranger's  glance  in 
terrogated  him. 

"  I  very  much  fear  you  have  forgotten  the  old  maxim, 
that  where  love  enters,  every  thing  else  disappears,"  said  tin 
soldier. 

"  Love,  sir  ?  " 

"  Charley's  married." 

The  stranger  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  replied — 

"  Well,  sir,  marriage  makes  a  man  stronger.  One  is  not 
a  perfect  citizen  until  he  has  given  to  society  those  hostages 
of  fortune,  which  Lord  Bacon  speaks  of." 

"  I  doubt  much  whether  his  mind  is  as  full  of  political 
ideas  as  formerly,  man  ami"  said  the  Captain,  "  he  has  never 
lived,  he  writes,  until  now." 

The  stranger  reflected. 

"  He  is  in  the  grand  mountains  yonder,  with  a  wife  who, 
morbleu !  has  never  had  her  equal ;  he  says  the  country  is 
a  paradise,  and  that  the  world  is  dead  to  him." 

The  stranger  shook  his  head. 

"  In  one  word,  he  is  happy  and  contented,  sir,"  said  the 
Captain. 

The  stranger  uttered  a  sigh,  which  seemed  to  say, "  all  is 
over  then." 

"  I  will  send  him  any  message,  companion,"  said  the 
Captain,  "  or  if  you  want  a  good  arm  for  any  active  service, 
why,  for  Charley's  sake,  my  own  is  yours." 

The  stranger  rose,  shaking  his  head. 

"  I  trust  'tis  no  disparagement  to  say,  sir,  that  you  cannot 
supply  his  place,"  he  said.  ''  When  the  time  comes  I  know  you 
will  be  at  your  post,  Captain  Waters;  but  your  brother  is 
different.  You  may  think  all  this  very  strange,  but  I  repeat 
that  I  need  all  the  lights  to  guide  me  on  the  dark  path  I  shall 
soon  tread ;  and  this  torch  I  came  to  seek  cannot  have  its 


HOW  THE  PARSON  CURSED  THE  CAPTAIN.       193 

place  supplied  by  another.  I  fear  that  'tis  gone  from  me— 
that  I  must  go  alone.  I  see  many  noble  lights  around  me," 
continued  the  stranger,  with  his  high,  calm  look,  and  glancing 
at  the  gentleman  seated  in  the  corner  poring  over  his  brief, 
"  but  I  do  not  think  they  will  guide  me  as  far  as  I  wish  to 
go ;  again  sir,  let  me  say  that  the  impression  made  upon 
me  by  Mr.  Waters,  must  be  my  excuse  for  this  strange 
conversation." 

"  Not  at  all !  not  all !  "  said  the  Captain.  "  I  am  most 
happy  to  hear  Charley  praised;  and  he  will,  I  am  sure,  be 
glad  to  hear  of  your  visit." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  "  when  you  write  again 
say  that  I  remembered  his  words,  '  If  God  decrees  revolu 
tion  let  it  come  I '  Say  to  him,  that  this  decree  of  God  has 
gone  forth  ;  that  he  is  needed." 

And  bowing  with  his  old,  awkward  bow,  the  man  in  the 
red  cloak,  refusing  to  stay  and  sup,  took  his  leave,  followed  by 
his  companion,  who  exchanged  a  cordial  and  smiling  farewell 
with  the  Captain. 

In  ten  minutes  they  had  disappeared  in  the  direction  of 
Williamsburg. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 


CAPTAIN  RALPH  WATERS  was  one  of  those  men  who  have  too 
high  a  regard  for  themselves,  not  to  keep  their  word  in  the 
amplest  and  most  perfect  manner.  Having  promised  Lanky 
to  arrange  his  matrimonial  affairs  if  possible,  he  mounted 
Selim  on  the  morning  after  the  visit  of  the  strange  man  in 
the  red  cloak,  and  set  out  for  Williamsburg,  via  the  Old 
Field  School. 

It  was  one  of  those  days  in  May  Which  drive  away,  by 
simple  force  of  their  own  brightness,  every  care  and  annoy- 
a.ice.  The  sky  was  blue ;  the  streams  ran  merrily,  spark 
ling  in  the  sun  ;  the  woodland  rustled  gayly  in  the  warm 
spring  breeze  ;  and  far  up  in  the  clouds  the  lark  made  him 
•juif  an  invisible  song,  which  filled  the  air  with  music.. 


194      HOW  THE  PARSON  CURSED  THE  CAPTAIN. 

All  nature  seemed  to  be  laughing  and  singing — not  the 
streams,  and  skies,  and  birds  alone — the  very  flowers  which 
gemmed  the  glades  and  sunny  hillocks,  turned  smiling  faces 
to  the  merry  sun,  and  plainly  knew  that  May — the  month  of 
flowers — had  come. 

The  soldier  was  not  behindhand  ;  his  mood  did  not  clash 
with  the  joyous  season.  Naturally,  life  was  bright  and  joy 
ous  to  him,  with  his  strong,  hearty  senses,  that  drank  in 
brilliant  colors  rapturously,  and  took  delight  in  pleasant 
odors,  and  felt  the  world  was  happier  for  the  singing  birds. 
And  not  to  neglect  his  own  duty,  he  added  his  own  joyous 
"  tirra-lirra !  "  to  the  concert ;  in  so  loud  and  hearty  a  voice, 
that  the  oriole  who  was  shaking  his  trills  down  on  the  blue 
air  from  a  lofty  pine,  paused  with  a  pleased  surprise,  and 
listened. 

Thus  the  Captain  drew  near  the  school-house  and  slowly 
approached  the  door. 

"  Ah  1  not  a  palace  of  education  like  the  European 
Academies,"  he  said,  "  and  even  not  quite  equal  to  '  William 
ind  Mary'  in  the  town  yonder.  But  morbleu  !  'tis  not  on 
that  account  to  be  despised.  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is 
4  large  amount  of  excellent  information  to  be  acquired  in 
these  log  houses,  even  though  the  source  of  the  stream  be 
tnuddy  as  it  is  here.  I  have  a  notion  that  the  Colony  of 
Virginia  will  some  day  turn  out  a  number  of  distinguished 
men, — at  least  it  is  probable ;  and  then  the  Old  Field  School 
will  be  rendered  honorable,  as  the  forest  lyceum  where  the 
young  patriots  drank  in  their  first  ideas.  A  man  gets  a 
better  knowledge  of  life  in  these  places,  ma  foi  1  with  the  birds 
singing,  the  trees  rustling,  the  sun  dancing  along  them  : — 
they  look  free  !  In  the  old  world  all  is  battered  up  between 
hot  brick  walls,  in  crowded  thoroughfares.  The  only  mis 
fortune  is  that  1  got  neither  one  or  the  other." 

And  as  if  in  defiance  of  the  agency  of  fate  in  this  par 
ticular,  Captain  Ralph  began  singing  lustily  his  song  again, 
and  ended  with  a  loud  "  tra  la  i  tra  la  !  "  that  shook  the 
forest. 

This  song  attracted  to  the  open  window  of  the  school- 
house  a  number  of  faces,  among  the  rest  that  of  Miss  Donsy 
Smith.  Without  dismounting  the  Captain  approached  and 
touched  his  hat  gallantly. 


HOW    THE    PARSON    CUKSED    .HE    CAPTAIN.  196 

"  Ah,  Miss  Donsy  !  delighted  to  see  you,"  he  said,  "  do 
you  know  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Donsy,  blushing,  for  the  Captain's  laugh 
ing  eye  very  plainly  said,  "I  know  all." 

"  Well,  Miss  Donsy,"  said  the  soldier,  lowering  his  voice 
as  he  leaned  down  to  Donsy,  who  bent  her  head  through  the 
window,  "  Lanky  has  been  making  a  clean  breast  of  it !  " 

And  he  laughed.     Donsy  blushed  crimson  and  was  silent, 

"  'Tis  a  bon  gar$on"  continued  the  Captain,  restraining 
his  hilarity,  "  and  he  will  make  an  excellent  husband.  I 
have  promised  him  to  go  and  see  your  respected  father, 
mam 'se  lie,  and  I  thought  I  would  call  by  and  gather 
strength  for  the  attack  from  your  bright  eyes.  Ah !  I  think 
Lanky  is  very  fortunate,  parbleu  1  " 

"  Oh,  sir  !  "  said  Donsy,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  "  he  is  so 
good  you  know — I  am  not  good  enough  for  him." 

The  Captain  admired  the  fresh,  sincere  face,  the  earnest 
voice,  and  said,  laughing : 

"  Diable !  I  think  then  that  all  is  arranged,  if  you  have 
such  a  mutual  liking.  As  for  Lanky,  he  is  dying  for  you, 
Mam'selle  Donsy  ;  and  I  really  begin  to  think  that  I  should 
acquiesce  in  the  old  saying,  '  love  conquers  all  things,'  and 
leave  you  and  Lanky  to  fight  it  out,  morbleu !  " 

And  the  Captain  again  burst  into  laughter.  Donsy  only 
blushed  more  deeply  still,  and  gave  him  a  look  which  said 
"Please  see  my  father  and  ask  him  to  consent;  I  never 
could  speak  of  it  to  him." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  Captain,twirling  his  moustache, "  I 
will  go  on  then  in  my  course  and  do  my  best :  but  really  I 
think  the  shortest  way  will  be  to  whisk  you  through  this 
window,  carry  you  off  to  my  robber  strong-hold,  capture  the 
parson,  your  pedagogue,  and  force  him  to  tie  the  nuptial 
knot  at  a  word.  How  would  the  venerable  man  look,  think 
you,  seated  behind  me,  jolted  up  and  down  as  I  galloped  ? 
Faith  !  he  would  make  a  picture  !  " 

And,  enamored  of  his  own  fancy,  Captain  Waters  burst 
into  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"  Who  are  you  talking  with  there,  Donsy  Smith  1 "  cried  • 
pompous  and  severe  voice  suddenly  from  the  interior. 

The  Captain  put  his  head  through  the  window. 

"  With  roe,  parbleu  1  "  h,e  said.. 


196      HOW  THE  PARSON  Cl  RSED  THE  CAPTA  N. 

The  parson,  who  was  seated  in  state  upon  Lis  rostrum^ 
hearing  a  class  recite  and  occasionally  ferruling  the  delin 
quents,  started  back  as  the  martial  head,  with  its  long  black 
moustache,  sparkling  eyes  and  brilliant  smile,  appeared.  Be 
hind  this  warlike  visage,  surmounted  by  its  Flanders  hat 
with  its  dark  feather,  was  seen  the  fine  spirited  head  and 
flowing  mane  of  the  Arabian.  The  appearance  of  this  vision 
nearly  took  the  parson's  breath  away,  and  he  murmured  : 

"  Vade  retro  sathanas  ! " 

"  Ah,  your  reverence  1 — bon  jour !  "  cried  the  Captain 
laughing. 

"  Good  day,  sir,"  muttered  the  unwilling  parson. 

"  I  trust  your  reverence  is  well  to  day ;  charming  weath 
er — and  a  charming  sight  to  see  you  sitting  there  teaching 
the  young  idea,  instead  of,  as  you  formerly  were  in  the  habit 
of  doing,  following  the  tuck  of  the  drum,  behind  some  war 
like  captain." 

"  Anathema ! "  observed  the  parson,  who,  afraid  to 
vituperate  in  English,  selected  the  Latin  language  for  that 
purpose. 

"  Ah  ?  "  inquired  the  Captain  politely. 

"Nothing,  sir." 

"  I  am  going  to  town,  your  eminence,  any  commands  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  I  trust  your  reverence  has  not  had  an  indigestion ;  you 
look  badly — sour,  if  I  may  say  so." 

"  I  am  reasonably  well,  sir." 

"  Delighted  to  hear  it ;  you  would  be  a  loss  to  the  parish." 

And  the  Captain  turned  again  to  Donsy,  whose  fresh  faoo 
was  not  many  inches  from  his  own. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  am  going." 

"  Thank'ee,  sir,"  murmured  Donsy. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,  morbleu !  " 

"  I  am  sure  you  will,"  said  Donsy,  in  the  same  low 
grateful  voice. 

"  I  have  promised  Lanky  the  cottage  we  live  in.' 

"  Oh,  sir  !  "  said  Donsy,  looking  at  the  soldier  gracefully 
*  you  are  very  kind." 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"  Indeed  you  are,  sir. 

"  No — I  expect  to  bo  paid?" 


LANKY    A    NOBLEMAN    IN    DISGUISE.  197 

"Paid,  sir?" 

"  Do  you  think  I  intend  to  neglect  my  business  to  go 
gadding  for  you  and  Lanky,  ma'mselle,  to  say  nothing  of 
giving  up  my  mansion  to  you,  without  any  reward  ?  " 

"  Your  reward,  sir  ?  "  murmured  Donsy. 

"  Yes  :  do  you  refuse  it  ?  " 

"  What  can  it  be,  sir  ?  " 

"  Answer — do  you  refuse  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  will  exact  payment  in  advance  !  " 
said  the  Captain,  with  his  joyous  and  loud  laughter. 

And  bending  down  he  brushed  the  girl's  cheek  with  his 
huge  moustache,  which  caused  that  portion  of  Donsy's  face  to 
turn  the  color  of  her  lips — which  were  crimson. 

The  parson  saw  all,  and  rose  up,  brandishing  his  ferrule 
and  muttering  an  unmistakable  "  Sacre  !  " 

"  Take  care,  your  eminence,  I  understand  French  !  "  cried 
the  Captain,  "  objurgate  me  in  Latin,  not  in  the  Francois  I  " 

And  before  the  parson  could  reply,  the  head  exchanged 
a  confidential  look  with  Donsy,  and  disappeared.  In  five 
minutes  the  forest  again  resounded  with  the  "  tirra  lirra ! '' 
which  slowly  died  away  in  the  direction  of  the  town  of 
Williamsburg. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  PROVED  THAT  LANKY  WAS  A  GREAT  NOBLEMAN 
IN  DISGUISE. 

THE  Captain  continued  his  way,  quickly  forgetting  this  little 
incident,  and  soon  reached  the  town  and  the  shop  of  Mr.  A. 
Z.  Smith 

In  this  history,  which  aims  at  presenting  in  a  brief  and 
rapid  manner,  some  view,  however  slight,  of  the  various 
classes  of  individuals  who  formed  that  Virginia  of  1765,  it 
would  be  unjust  to  wholly  omit,  after  touching  upon  the 
peculiarities  of  the  Crows  and  Lankys,  all  nrention  of  the 
factors  as  they  were  then  called.  These  men  were  the  agents 
of  English  merchants,  and  their  business  was  to  arrange  the 
shipping  of  tobacco  from  the  various  wharves;  to  negotiate  for 


198  HOW    THE    CAPTAIN    PROVED 

its  purchase  in  London  or  Liverpool ;  and  to  receive  and 
transmit  to  the  planters  the  price  received  for  the  great  staple 
They  willingly  undertook,  also,  to  attend  to  any  commissions 
for  goods  from  England  :  and  the  planter  had  only  to  deposit 
with  his  factor  the  measure  of  his  person,  the  size  of  his 
extremities,  and  the  style  of  garments  he  wanted,  to  ensure 
a  suit  from  London  direct,  by  the  best  maker.  The  factor 
did  all  this,  and  more,  for  a  very  small  percentage. 

The  factors  were  of  the  opinion,  for  the  most  part,  tha 
life  was  an  agreeable  institution,  the  chief  end  of  which  was 
to  make  money  throughout  the  week,  and  on  Saturday  finish 
the  week  with  a  carouse  around  a  bowl  of  punch  or  lamb'a 
wool :  they  practised  this  habit  at  least ;  and  one  of  the 
most  zealous  advocates  of  this  mode  of  life  was  Mr.  A.  Z. 
Smith,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  kept  a  small  shop  on  Glou 
cester-street,  not  far  from  the  "  Raleigh." 

Without  further  digression — for  this  worthy  will  scarcely 
reappear  in  our  history — we  shall  proceed  to  follow  the 
Captain. 

He  drew  up  before  the  door  of  the  shop,  and  Mr.  A.  Z. 
Smith  made  his  appearance,  smiling  and  rosy  as  usual.  The 
attrition  of  the  lamb's  wool  seemed  to  have  made  his  coun 
tenance  red ;  and  its  owner  at  the  same  time  very  good- 
humored.  Smith  took  the  Captain's  outstretched  hand  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  feels  himself  greatly  honored. 

"  Ah,  Captain,  you  do  me  a  great  pleasure — really  now," 
he  said,  with  that  polite  air  he  had  caught  from  the  noble 
aristocracy. 

"  Basta  !  "  said  the  Captain,  hitching  his  horse  to  a  rack 
before  the  door ;  "  don't  make  me  talk  until  I  have  tasted 
your  Jamaica.  I'm  as  thirsty  as  a  leviathan,  seigneur  bour- 
geoise." 

The  factor  smiled,  as  a  man  smiles  when  rosy  visions  rise 
in  his  mind. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,  Captain,"  he  said. 

And  they  entered  the  shop. 

It  was  very  small,  and  the  goods  for  sale  were  of  the 
simplest  description.  Onions  hung  in  strings  from  the 
rafters — flitches  of  bacon  kept  them  in  countenance — buckets 
and  tin  pans  and  whips  were  suspended  in  graceful  and 
artistic  relief.  On  the  small  iounter  stood  open  boxes  of 


LANKY    A    NOBLEMAN    IN    DISGUISE.  199 

tobacco,  and  a  number  of  household  utensils;  and  beside 
these  smirked  the  round  face  of  a  single  shopman.  Behind 
the  shop  was  a  small  private  room — and  this  was  the  real 
counting-house — where  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith  received  his  noble 
visitors,  and  where  a  huge  safe  and  pile  of  ledgers  testified 
to  his  usefulness  in  the  community,  and  his  well-to-do  condi 
tion  in  life. 

To  this  private  room  he  led  the  Captain,  smiling ;  and 
from  a  secret  receptacle  under  his  desk  drew  out  a  flat  black 
flask,  which  contained  his  favorite  Jamaica,  which  was  ex 
cellent.  He  placed  this  before  the  Captain,  with  some 
glasses ;  gave  his  visitor  the  seat  of  honor,  and  without 
solicitation  drank  to  his  excellent  good  health. 

If  the  factor  was  rosy  and  cheerful,  Captain  Ralph  was 
moody  and  dispirited.  He  shook  his  head,  after  the  first  sip 
of  rum,  and  almost  groaned 

"  You  are  not  unwell,  Captain  ?  "  said  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  murmured  the  soldier. 

"  You  are  sick  ?  " 

"  Mentally  so,  my  dear  fellow — I  feel  a  sentiment  of 
great  remorse." 

"  Remorse,  Captain  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  companion,  real  remorse,  and  you  have 
something  to  do  with  it." 

"I.  Captain?" 

**  Yes,  indeed ;  your  rum  has  caused  it." 
My  rum  ?  " 

"  £es,  yes ;  do  you  not  remember  my  visit  the  other 
day  ?  " 

"  In  your  splendid  new  chariot,  Captain  ?  Oh,  yes  1  It 
would  not  be  easy  to  forget  it ;  it  is  one  of  the  finest  in  the 
colonj  " 

"  Delighted  that  you  are  pleased.  "Well,  on  that  occa 
sion  I  drank  some  of  thi?  Jamaica." 

"Yes,  Captain." 

"  Well,  companion,  now  listen  to  the  enormity  I  have 
been  guilty  of.  I  went  home,  sir,  after  drinking  some  of 
this  nectar — yes,  this  liquid  ambrosia,  and  like  an  ill-hu 
mored  fellow  called  it — what  do  you  imagine  ?  " 

"  Not  bad,  Captain  ?  "  said  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith,  tuning 
pale ;  "  not  bad  ?  " 


200  HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  PROVED 

"I  called  it  execrable,  a  much  worse  word  than  .ad, 
mon  ami." 

And  the  soldier  groaned. 

"  Never  mind,  sir,"  said  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith,  affected  pro 
foundly  by  the  Captain's  painful  feeling  of  remorse ;  "  neve* 
mind,  sir,  you  have  changed  your  opinion ;  have  you  not  ?  " 

The  Captain  swallowed  a  mouthful,  and  looked  raptu 
rously  at  the  ceiling.  That  was  enough — no  reply  was  needed 
— that  look  said  more  than  words. 

"  Let  us  speak  upon  more  cheerful  subjects,"  said  the 
Captain,  sighing ;  "  I  have  just  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
your  daughter  Donsy,  mon  ami." 

"  Donsy,  Captain  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  at  the  Old  Field  School  yonder.  A  chancing 
little  creature,  ma  foi !  " 

"  She's  a  good  girl,"  said  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith,  with  a  cheer 
ful  look  ;  "  the  light  of  the  house." 

"  And  that  made  me  hesitate,  comrade,"  said  the  Cap 
tain,  "  before  visiting  you  to-day." 

"  Hesitate?" 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  you  would  be  loth  to  part  with  her,  I 
know." 

"  To  part  with  her  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"With  Donsy?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  companion." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Captain,'  said  hie  host, 
smiling. 

"  I  had  some  idea  lately  of  asking  Miss  Donsy's  hand." 

"  Oh,  captain — a  great  honor  !  " 

"  Honor  ?  Bah  !  I  say,  sir,  that  the  man  who  gets 
Ma'mselle  Donsy  will  be  fortunate." 

'*  Indeed  he  will,  sir ;  I  have  not  been  twenty  years  at 
work  without  laying  by  a  plum." 

"  There  you  are,  with  your  eternal  commercial  ideas." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith,  afraid  that  he  had  com 
mitted  something  in  bad  taste — than  which  nothing  horrified 
him  more. 

"  You  think  I  mean  '  fortunate '  in  a  pecuniary  sense. 
You  cannot  understand  the  divine  sentiment,  morbleu  1 — 
really,  friend  Smith,  I  am  ashamed  of  you  1 " 


LANKY  A  NOBLEMAN  IN  DISGUISE  201 

Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith  looked  contrite  and  murmured  an 
apology. 

"  I  thought  of  applying  for  Ma'mselle  Donsy's  hand 
myself,"  replied  the  Captain,  "  but  I  am  not  at  present  in  a 
condition  to  marry — her  ;  and  besides,  I  am  now  aware  of 
the  fact  that  ma'mselle's  affections  are  engaged." 

"  Engaged,  Captain  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  she  loves  devotedly  one  of  my  best  friends — 
morbleu  !  a  noble  fellow." 

"  Oh  Captain." 

"  A  heart  of  gold — a  glorious  boy — you  know  him,  or  I 
am  mistaken." 

"  Who  can  it  be,  Captain  ?  " 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Lugg." 

The  factor  whistled.     "  What  1  Lanky  1  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  factor  repeated  that  astounded  noise  with  his  lipi 
and  said : 

"  He  a  friend  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  He  a  noble  fellow  ?  " 

"  Nothing  less,  sir." 

"  He  a  heart  of  gold — a  gentleman — your  friend  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is  all  that." 

"  Why,  Captain,  he's  a  mere  country  bumpkin ;  Donsy 
shall  never  marry  him — by  George,  sir,  she  shall  not  speak 
to  him  again." 

"  Friend  Smith,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Sir." 

"  You're  a  booby ;  permit  me  to  make  that  observation 
to  you  in  a  friendly  and  appreciative  spirit,  and  to  tell  you 
that,  considering  the  length  of  time  you  have  been  in  this 
wicked  and  woful  world,  you  are  no  better  than  a  child, 
morbleu  ! " 

Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith,  instead  of  getting  angry  at  this  plain 
and  unmistakable  charge,  held  down  his-  head. 

'*  Donsy  shall  not  marry  so  much  beneath  her,"  he  said 
M  that  I  am  resolved  on." 

"  Beneath  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Captain." 

**  How  is  Lanky  beneath  Donsy  ?  " 


202  HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  PROVED 

"  Why,  he's  as  poor  as  a  rat." 

"  He  is  no  such  thing." 

"  Why  sir,  he  is  a  common  farm-worker — was  with  Mr 
Waters,  your  relation,  I  suppose." 

"Who,  the  bon  pdre?  Certainly,  he  is  my  relation," 
gaid  the  Captain,  with  great  good  sense. 

"  Well,  sir,  how  can  you  say  Lanky  is  not  poor  ?  He's 
an  honest  fellow,  I  don't  mind  saying  that,  but  I  know  that 
he  is  as  poor  as  a  church  mouse." 

"  I  don't  believe  church  mice  are  poor,"  observed  the 
Captain  philosophically,  "  and  if  they  were,  I  deny  the  appli 
cation  to  Lanky." 

"  He  not  poor,  sir  ?— Oh  !—  " 

"  Listen,  man  ami:  I  am  rich.  As  rich  as  Croesus  and 
all  the  monarcbs  of  antiquity  put  together,  from  Sardanapa- 
lus,  king  of  some  land  or  other,  down  to  the  present  time. 
I  roll  in  wealth — I  don't  know  how  to  spend  it.  I  can't  find 
an  outlet  for  it — I  am  painfully  overburdened  with  gold  and 
land." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  sir  ! "  cried  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith,  looking 
respectfully  at  this  gigantic  proprietor. 

"  Now,  observe :  Lanky  is  my  friend — and  I  have  taken 
up  the  idea  that  he  will  be  improved  by  marriage.  I  ques 
tioned  him — he  replied  that  he  was  exceedingly  willing — 
having  secured  the  affection  of  your  daughter,  Ma'mselle 
Donsy." 

"  He  1 "  cried  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith. 

"  Yes,  indeed — Donsy  is  passionately  in  love  with  him — 
he  with  her — I  have  determined  to  see  them  married." 

"  Never,  Captain  !  " 

"  Because  he's  poor,  eh  ?  " 

"  He  is  not  only  that,  but  his  family  is  not  good,"  said 
Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith,  with  a  self-satisfied  air. 

"  His  family  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Why,  he  came- over  to  Virginia — his  ancestors,  I  mean 
— with  your  noble  forefather  Captain  John  Smith,  the  Che 
valier." 

The  factor  reddened  with  delight :  his  highest  ambition 
was  to  be  considered  the  descendant  of  the  great  soldier — 
and  in  fact  half  of  his  liking  for  Captain  Waters,  sprung 


LANKY  A  NOBLEMAN  :ji  msouisfc.  203 

from  the  fact,  that  that  gentleman  bore  no  bad  resemblance, 
with  his  long  black  moustache,  to  the  picture  of  Captain 
Smith,  hanging  up  in  his  counting-room.  So  that  when  his 
visitor  said  that  Lanky's  family  came  over  with  the  conquer 
or — that  is  to  say,  Captain  lohn  Smythe — the  factor  replied 
in  a  much  calmer  voice  : 

"  Really,  did  they  now,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  mon  ami,"  said  his  visitor ;  "  Lanky's  fa 
ther  was  the  shield  and  mace-bearer  of  the  Captain,  and  al 
ways  held  his  lance  and  helmet.  He  buckled  the  arms  on 
his  charger — the  Captain  allowing  no  one  else  to  do  it — 
when  the  worthy  Smith  ran  a  tilt  with  Sir  Powhatan  down 
there  upon  the  tournay  ground  near  York." 

Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith  looked  dubious. 

"Do  you  doubt  it,  sir?"  said  the  Captain;  "here  is  the 
herald's  coat  of  arms  of  the  Lugg  family.  Here  you  will 
see  that  they  spring  from  the  great  family  of  the  Lugdunen- 
ses  who  formerly  owned  all  London,  for  which  reason  that 
place  was  called  originally  Lugdunum,  Sir  Ernanton  Lug- 
dunensius  was  the  founder  of  the  house,  and  the  Chevalier 
Villiers  de  Lugge  was  the  one  who  came  over  with  your  an 
cestor,  companion — he  was  first  cousin  to  George  Villiers, 
Duke  of  Buckingham." 

Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith  then  saw  the  Captain  unroll  a  parch 
ment,  and  hold  it  before  his  dazzled  eyes. 

"  What  is  that,  sir  ?  "  he  murmured,  overcome  by  the 
prospect  of  having  such  a  son-in-law. 

"  Why,  the  genealogical  tree." 

"  Lanky's  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure." 

"  I  can't  read  it,  sir." 

"  No  wonder,  as  it  is  written  in  Aravtc — done  when 
Captain  Smith  and  Sir  Villiers  were  together  in  Bessarabia 
fighting  the  Turks.  It  is  further  continued  by  another  hand 
— and  you  will  observe  that  Lanky's  immediate  ancestor  was 
Selim  Lugg,  Esq." 

Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith,  as  was  quite  natural,  failed  to  compre 
hend  the  pedigree  of  the  Arabian,  and  the  Captain  soon 
rolled  it  up  again. 

"  Now  I  have  disposed  of  that,"  said  the  soldier ;  "  tb« 


204         HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  PROVED  LANKY  A   NOBLEMAtf. 

family  is  superior,  or  at  least  equal,  to  your  own :  and  no* 
sir,  to  speak  of  the  money  part." 

"  Oh,  Captain  Waters  !  "  said  the  little  factor,  with  a 
remonstrating  gesture. 

"  Let  me  go  on,"  continued  the  Captain. 

"Well,  sir." 

"  I  have — or  I  will — put  Lanky  in  possession  of  the  cot 
tage  on  the  river  yonder." 

"  A  very  good  house,  sir,  and  some  few  improvements 
would  make  it  elegant." 

"  Yes :  and  the  land — fifty  acres —  is  not  bad." 

"  Excellent,  sir  ! " 

"  Lanky  shall  have  all  at  his  own  terms — and  by  heaven, 
if  ho  wants  a  thousand  pounds  he  shall  have  it." 

"  You  are  very  liberal,  Captain." 

"  Do  you  be,  also." 

"  Hum  ! " 

"  Give  him  Donsy,  comrade." 

"  Oh — I  don't  think  we  can  spare  her,  Captain." 

"  Bah,  you  will  not  be  separated,  the  cottage  is  a  mere 
step,  companion." 

Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith  was  evidently  struggling  between  two 
opposing  forces. 

"  Do  you  say  he  shall  be  set  up  in  the  cottage  ?  "  at  last 
he  said. 

"  Yes,  morbleu ! " 

"  And  he  loves  Donsy  ?  " 

"  Passionately,  mafoi  !  " 

"  And  Donsy  him  ?  " 

"  Donsy  will  have  no  one  else  in  this  world,  companion. 
The  house  of  Smith  will  be  extinct — for  she'll  be  an  old 
maid." 

"  It's  hard  to  lose  her  ! "  sighed  the  factor,  who  really 
loved  his  daughter  exceedingly. 

"  She  will  not  be  the  same  happy  sort  of  sunbeam,  com 
panion,"  said  the  Captain ;  "  give  your  consent  and  make  hei 
happy.  Come,  now,  and  pledge  your  consent  in  a  cup  of  this 
delightful  Jamaica,  and  your  brave  ancestor  up  there  shall 
witness  the  compact — and  if  he  could,  I  am  sure  he  would 
twirl  his  moustaches  in  the  excess  of  his  satifaction. 

This  double  attack  finished  Mr.  A.  Z.  Smith : — his  pride 


GRAND   MUSTER    OF   THE    CORNSTALK    '-.EGIMENT.        25 

in  his  Jamaica,  his  pride  of  family,  and  in  addition  his  love 
for  his  daughter  had  been  brought  in  play,  and  he  suc 
cumbed. 

"  Well,  he  shall  have  her,"  he  said ;  "  Lanky's  a  good 
boy,  and  though  Donsy  might  a'  looked  higher,  he'll  make 
her  a  good  husband." 

And  the  factor  sighed. 

"  That's  well,"  said  the  Captain,  rising ;  "  and  I  knew 
you  would  place  more  stress  on  that  honesty  of  Lanky,  friend 
Smith,  than  on  this  question  of  lineage,  about  which  I  have 
been  telling  you  the  most  unconscionable  amount  of  lies. 
Diablc  !  sir,  I  honor  you  !  and  I  promise  that  you  shall  have 
the  commissions  of  my  whole  family  and  estate,  when  I  have 
the  former — now,  ban  jour,  companion:  I'll  ^u  see  Lanky, 
parbleu ! " 

And  the  Captain  set  down  his  empty  g>*ss  of  Jamaica, 
and  went  out  humming  his  old  song. 

In  half  an  hour  he  had  conquered  his  e-emy 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

GRAND  MUSTER  OF  THE  CORNSTALK  REGIMENT. 

INSTEAD  of  returning  homeward,  tho  soldier  determined  to 
proceed  to  the  office  of  the  ""Virginia  Gazette,"  and  pur 
chase  a  number  of  that  journal :  and  also  stop  a  moment  at 
the  Raleigh,  and  look  to  the  condition  of  his  horses  there. 

He  rode  into  the  yard  and  to  the  door  of  the  huge  stable, 
which  was  much  more  capacious  than  that  one  at  Beank- 
some,  where  ua  hundred  steeds  fed  free  in  stall."  The 
stable  of  the  Raleigh  would  have  accommodated  more  still : 
and  at  present  it  was  quite  full,  the  honorable  the  members 
of  the  House  of  Burgesses  beginning  to  arrive  in  attendance 
on  the  opening  of  the  House.  Captain  Ralph  surveyed  the 
bustling  throng  of  stable-boys  and  grooms  with  much  plea 
sure — bent  his  neck  into  the  stable  and  saw  his  four  glossy 
horses,  delighting  their  souls  with  an  abundant  supply  of 
oats — delivered  a  pistole  into  the  hands  of  the  hostler,  with 
the  promise  of  another,  if  the  appearance  of  the  animali 


206      GRAND  MUSTER  OF  THE  CORNSTALK  REGIMENT. 

pleased  him  when  he  came  again,  and  the  promise  furthel 
that  he  would  spit  the  said  hostler  with  his  sword  if  their 
condition  betrayed  neglect : — and  after  these  agreeable  and 
cheerful  ceremonies,  bent  his  way  to  the  Gazette  office. 

He  rode  up  to  the  door  and  received  his  paper  from  an 
urchin  of  inky  hue,  placed  there  to  sell  the  journal  at  six 
pence  per  copy,  and  then,  turning  Selim's  head  toward  home 
again,  dropped  the  bridle  on  his  neck,  and  went  along,  perus 
ing  the  paper. 

"  '  Arrival  of  the  Lucy}  "  he  read  ;  "  '  parliament — stamp 
act  introduced — speech  of  Colonel  Barri  opposing  it ;  minis 
ters — Townshend — Grenville ;  sums  raised  to  be  expended  in 
America ;  post  roads — hum  !  hum  ! — public  sentiment  in  the 
colonies  exaggerated — no  real  opposition — hum  !  hum  !  " 
Thus  the  Captain  continued  glancing  over  his  journal,  when 
suddenly  he  heard  a  loud,  shrill  squeak,  a  rattling  drum ;  and 
raising  his  eyes  found  himself  opposite  the  "  Raleigh  "  and 
in  the  midst  of  a  popular  gathering.  This  gathering  was  of 
every  conceivable  description  of  individuals — but  these  indi 
viduals  were  for  the  most  part  juvenile,  and  the  negroes  had 
decidedly  the  preponderance.  To  describe  the  costumes  of 
these  latter  would  require  much  more  genius  than  we  pos 
sess.  Hogarth,  in  a  golden  mood,  might  have  succeeded; 
but  what  pen  can  adequately  portray  an  under  tunic  flutter 
ing  en  arriere,  after  the  manner  of  a  flag ; — what  mere  de 
scription  can  paint  a  pair  of  unmentionables  held  up  by  one 
suspender,  made  of  leather,  and  worn  at  the  knees  in  a  man 
ner  painful  and  shocking  to  behold  ? 

It  was  a  crowd  of  this  description  in  the  midst  of  which 
Captain  Ralph  now  found  himself ;  and  which  Selim  pushed 
his  way  through  with  the  unimpressed  air  of  a  child  of  *he 
desert  whom  nothing  astonishes. 

But  the  cause  of  the  crowd  V  Ah  !  that  is  worth  seeing. 
It  is  nothing  less  than  a  muster  of  the  entire  "  Cornstalk 
Regiment  of  Virginia  Volunteers,"  Captain  William  Efling- 
hain  commanding. 

The  regiment  are  as  picturesque  as  ever  in  costume  and 
equipment: — they  hold  their  heads  up  proudly,  and  shoul 
der  their  guns,  or  the  substitutes  for  guns,  described  formerly 
—with  an  air  which  says,  "  We  are  proud  of  ourselves, 
our  cause,  and  our  commander  j  "  they  march  on,  in  single 


ORAND   MUSTER   OP   THE   CORNSTA^i   REGIMENT.        207 

file,  to  the  sound  of  a  drum  and  fife,  the  former  uttering  an 
incessant  rattle — the  latter  a  deafening  scream. 

Captain  William  Effingham  precedes  the  whole — even 
precedes  the  music ;  and  his  head  is  bent  backwards,  with 
proud  satisfaction,  as,  sword  in  hand,  and  sugar  loaf  cap  on 
head,  he  marshals  and  directs  his  brave  companions. 

In  front  struggles  a  youthful  gentleman, — it  is  Mr.  Bar- 
kerville,  the  artist, — under  the  weight  of  a  tall  pine  sapling, 
from  which  floats  a  silken  banner,  which  utters  a  joyful 
flapping  noise  when  the  wind  strikes  it,  and  causes  the 
great  artist  to  reel  and  gasp.  Upon  this  banner,  which  has 
been  presented  to  the  Cornstalk  regiment  by  Miss  Kate  Ef 
fingham,  of  Effingham  Hall,  the  work  of  whose  fair  hands  it 
is — upon  the  banner  is  inscribed  in  letters  of  golden  silk 
the  thrilling  motto : 

NO  STAMP  ACT 

FOREVER ! 
LIBERTY  OR  DEATH!!! 

and  whenever  the  youthful  soldiers  gaze  upon  it,  they  shout 
tremendously,  and  utter  wild  hurrahs,  and  waver  about  in  the 
excess  of  their  hot  patriotism. 

We  have  dismissed  the  bold  musicians  too  briefly :  let 
us  look  at  them.  Is  not  the  fifer  an  old  acquaintance  » 
His  coat  is  much  too  large  and  long  for  him  ;  he  wears  a  straw 
hat  innocent  of  rim,  and  much  dilapidated ;  he  has  bandy 
legs,  protruding  lips,  a  woolly  head  ;  he  no  longer  possesses 
any  thing  but  the  remnant  of  a  shirt.  It  is  Mr.  Crow — 
Crow  in  his  glory ;  Crow  rejoicing  ;  Crow  patriotic,  and  full 
of  grand  ideas,  hostile  to  tyranny, — especially  to  the  Stamp 
Act.  This  hostility  causes  him  to  surpass  himself;  his  fife 
utters  cries  of  rage  and  triumph  which  are  fatal  to  sur 
rounding  ears;  his  eyes  dance  like  meteors;  his  cheeks 
are  puffed  up  to  the  size  of  squashes ;  his  rugged  sleeves 
are  agitated  ;  and  his  gait  is  the  mixture  of  a  jump,  a  dance, 
a  hop,  and  a  run,  which  we  have  once  described.  Mr.  Crow 
is  at  the  summit  of  human  felicity,  and  when  he  pauses  in 
his  fifing,  and,  with  a  noble  gesture,  silences  the  drum  which 
one  of  his  relations  hag  been  promoted  tp  at  his  solicitation,, 


208        GRAND   MUSTER   OF   THE   CORNSTALK   I.EGIMENT. 

be  takes  off  his  ragged  hat,  and  waving  it,  utters  a  "  hoora  I 
drowning  all  the  rest. 

Captain  Ralph,  pausing  at  the  door  of  the  "  Raleigh,' 
saw  the  grand  procession,  with  its  following  of  ragged  black 
urchins,  and  vagrants  of  every  description,  sweep  on.  As  he 
was  about  to  go  onward  again,  laughing,  toward  home,  he 
heard  a  grave  and  strong  voice  beside  him  say  : 

"  Give  you  good  day,  Captain  Waters ;  we  are  well  met ! " 

He  turned,  and  saw  the  man  in  the  red  cloak,  whose  face 
still  wore  the  grim  smile  with  which  he  had  been  gazing  at 
the  Cornstalk  soldiers. 

"  Ah  !  bon  compagnon  !  "  cried  the  hearty  soldier,  holding 
out  his  hand  ;  "  good  morrow  !  delighted  to  see  you  again." 

"  We  meet,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  whose  face  had  resum 
ed  its  rigid  expression,  "  on  an  occasion  which  recalls  the 
topic  of  our  conversation  yesterday.  Did  you  read  that  ban 
ner  ?  " 

"  Yes,  faith  1  '  No  Stamp  Act  for  ever,' — meaning,  I 
suppose,  eternal  opposition  to  that  measure  ;  then  '  Liberty 
or  Death' — ma  foil  that,  at  least,  does  not  admit  of  a  sup 
position.  It  is  grandly  unmistakable." 

''  You  are  right,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  whose  eyes  again 
seemed  to  grow  full  of  his  eternal  predominant  idea,  and  to 
blaze — so  to  speak — with  that  idea ;  "  'tis  a  grand  senti 
ment,  and  I  assure  you,  sir,  that  this  banner,  boyish  as  it 
seems,  speaks  the  sentiment  of  the  whole  colony." 

"  Parbleu  !  perhaps,"  said  the  soldier,  dubiously. 

"  Who  gave  them  their  ideas,  sir  ?  "  continued  the  stran 
ger.  "  Urchins  do  not  read  parliamentary  debates  and  boil 
over  politically  without  some  instigation.  Their  fathers, 
sir  !  Their  fathers  have  spoken  of  that  infamous  measure — 
and  see  the  indication  of  men's  opinions  in  the  actions  of 
boys." 

The  soldier  nodded  his  head  in  sign  of  acquiescence. 

"  Those  boys  will  be  men  soon,"  continued  the  stranger, 
"  and  will  wield  vigorous  swords  ;  that  fife  and  drum  will 
yet  sound  on  grander  occasions,  I  predict." 

Then,  breaking  off  suddenly,  the  stranger  said  : 

"  Any  news  of  Mr.  Charles  Waters,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  Captain,  "  and — egad  !  I  think  the  mails 
ire  no  better  than  they  should  be.  Bad,  this,  very  bad,' 


GRAND    MUSTEK    OF    THE    CORNSTALK    REGIMENT.         209 

"  I  see  the  '  Gazette '  in  your  hand,"  said  the  stranger, 
drawing  his  old  cloak  around  him  and  smiling  grimly ;  "  have 
you  not  read  how  the  proceeds  of  the  Stamp  Act  are  to  be 
applied  to  the  improvement  of  the  post  roads  ?  But,  sir," 
he  continued,  "  I  detain  you.  When  you  write  to  Mr. 
Waters,  place  at  the  bottom  of  your  letter  the  words . 
'  Come  !  come  !  you  are  wanted  ! '  Now,  sir.  I  must  go  to 
pay  a  visit  which  I  have  promised  to  a  young  friend  of 
mine,  named  Jefferson,  at  the  college — a  young  man  of  much 
promise,  with  a  strong  political  genius.  I  want  these  sort 
of  men ;  I  wish  to  see  their  faces  round  me  when  I  rouse 
the  storm  ;  I  wish,  above  all,  to  have  men  like  your  brother 
near  me.  Good  day,  sir." 

And  wrapping  his  old  cloak  around  him  closer  still,  spite 
of  the  mild  May  morning,  the  stranger  made  his  awkward 
bow  and  disappeared  in  the  crowd.  The  Captain  looked 
after  him  a  moment,  muttering,  "  an  odd  fish,  that ! "  and 
then  touched  the  Arabian  with  his  heel.  Selim  went  on 
down  Gloucester-street,  and  was  soon  out  of  the  town. 

Half  a  mile  from  the  place,  Captain  Ralph  discerned  two 
figures  approaching  across  the  fields ;  they  were  a  young 
man  and  a  girl,  and,  as  they  drew  nearer,  he  recognized 
Lanky  and  the  mistress  of  his  heart.  The  soldier  smiled 
as  they  came  up,  bowing  to  him. 

Lanky  hung  upon  his  countenance  ;  taking  hope  or  de 
spair  as  the  Captain  smiled,  or  looked  gloomy.  We  are 
sorry  to  say  the  soldier  amused  himself  with  Lanky's  anxiety 
in  this  manner  for  some  time,  and  he  refused,  for  some  mo 
ments,  to  reply  to  Donsy's  appealing  glances. 

At  last  he  burst  into  a  laugh,  and  cried  : 

"  Morbleu  !  'tis  easy  to  see  that  you  foolish  children  are 
in  love.  Basta  1  was  there  ever  such  a  folly  as  you  have 
committed.  You,  Lanky,  you  villain,  going  and  falling  up 
to  your  ears  in  love  with  a  pair  of  blue  eyes;  and  you,  Miss 
Donsy,  with  a  pine-knot,  surmounting  a  pair  of  striped 
stockings.  It  is  alarming !  But,  not  to  keep  you  longer  in 
suspense,  monsieur  and  ma'mselle, — I  have  encountered  the 
enemy — the  parent  of  Phillis  consents  to  an  alliance  between 
his  daughter  and  her  Corydon ;  in  a  single  word,  my  dear 
Miss  Donsy,  your  father  consents  to  your  marriage." 

And,  before  the  enraptured  Lanky  could  impress  a  kis| 


5210       MR.  CROW  TRIED  FOR  UNOFFICE3.-LIKE  CONDUCT. 

upon  his  sweetheart's  cheek,  Captain  Ralph  bent  down  and 
relieved  him  of  that  trouble,  after  which,  he  rode  on,  laugh 
ing  and  singing,  toward  home. 

"Parbleul"  muttered  the  Captain,  as  he  rode  along, 
with  his  arms  hanging  down,  "  a  good  day's  work  for  those 
silly  folks  there,  standing  under  the  tree,  still, — by  Jove  I 
she's  in  his  arms  !  Well,  well ;  if  I  am  so  good  a  strate 
gist  in  another's  cause,  should  I  not  make  some  headway  in 
my  own  ?  " 


CHAPTER     XXXIV 

HOW  MB.  CROW  WAS  TRIED  FOR  UNOFFICER-LIKE  CONDUCT,  WITH 
OTHER  INCIDENTS  OF  A  FOREST  PICNIC. 

"  THIS  is  a  wicked  world,"  says  the  author  of  the  MS., 
"  and,  in  his  pilgrimage  toward  a  better,  man  must  meet 
with  many  things  to  shock  and  anger  him.  But  there  are 
many  pleasant  things  to  look  upon  as  well.  I  think  one  of 
the  pleasantest  sights  in  the  world  is  the  innocent  joy  of 
children.  It  is  not  necessary  that  a  man  should  grow  old 
before  he  can  experience  this  feeling  of  happiness,  at  seeing 
young  persons  enjoy  themselves ;  it  is  not  necessary  that  the 
head  should  grow  white,  the  heart  calm  and  philosophical, 
the  senses  dulled  to  those  delights  which  strong  and  excita 
ble  youth  takes  such  delight  in.  No  ;  this  feeling  need  not 
await  the  annihilation  of  the  fiercer  passions,  the  dulling  of 
the  heart, — to  come  then  merely  as  a  forerunner  of  old  age, 
which  takes  children  on  the  knee  and  sighs  over  them,  and, 
at  the  same  instant,  over  that  bright  childhood  which,  in 
them,  rises  up  again  before  the  grandsire's  eyes.  I  hold 
that  man  made  of  coarse  and  rude  stuff,  who  does  not  feel 
his  heart  stir  with  pleasure  at  the  innocent  laughter  of  a 
cbild, — who  does  not  see  in  the  child  character  some  of  that 
primal  light  which  streamed  on  Paradise,  from  the  blue 
heaven,  yet  undimmed  by  any  cloud.  Mr.  William  Shakes 
peare  has  said,  in  his  matchless  writings,  that  the  man  who 
has  no  music  in  his  soul  should  not  be  trusted  ;  and  far  less 
would  I  trust  the  man  who  did  not  find,  in  the  gay  prattig 
»f  children,  a  music  sweeter  than  the  harp  of 


HE.  CROW  TRIED  FOR  UNOFFICER-LIKE  CONDUCT.       211 

Thus  does  the  worthy  author  of  the  manuscript,  from 
which  we  take  these  veracious  events,  discourse  upon  his 
love  for  children,  which,  as  the  reader  may  have  observed, 
has  elsewhere  appeared  in  this  history.  The  sentiments  of 
the  worthy  gentleman  are  very  well  in  their  way,  but  we 
may  be  permitted  to  doubt  the  propriety  of  prefacing  with 
such  grave  reflections,  an  excursion  of  the  Cornstalk  regi 
ment  into  the  Effingham  woods,  for  the  purpose  of  holding 
therein  a  picnic.  Still,  we  have  preserved  this  little  para 
graph  of  our  respected  chief,  and,  having  accurately  ./ran- 
scribed  it  from  the  discolored  manuscript,  will  proceed  to 
speak  briefly  of  the  festival. 

Sure  never  morn  dawned  clearer  than  that  Saturday  1 
The  very  skies  seemed  rejoicing,  and  the  birds  were  -jsi- 
tively  delirious  with  delight.  The  streams  sang  too,  and 
rattled  the  diamonds  in  their  beds  with  ceaseless  glee,  and 
jumped  up  to  the  boughs  which  drooped  down  toward  them, 
and  ran  laughing  by.  In  the  fields  the  colts  gambolled  for 
joy,  the  sheep  tossed  their  heads,  the  cattle  bells  were  tink 
ling,  tinkling,  tinkling,  and  playing  without  musical  notes  to 
guide  them, — from  mere  improvisation — merrier  melodies 
than  any  in  Don  Juan  or  the  Barber  of  Seville.  The  merry 
May  was  laughing  everywhere,  and,  not  to  be  outdone,  the 
members  of  the  Cornstalk  regiment,  stretched  under  the 
lofty  trees  in  a  glade  of  the  forest,  laughed  louder  still. 

They  had  been  marshalled  before  the  portico  of  Effing- 
ham  Hall,  by  that  noble  commander,  Captain  William 
Effingham,  who  made  them  a  speech,  as  usual.  In  the  midst 
of  this  speech,  he  had  found  the  attention  of  his  auditors 
grow  distracted  :  and  then  Captain  Effingham  had  perceived, 
at  a  glauce,  the  cause  of  this  movement.  There  issued  from 
the  broad  portal,  a  bevy  of  fair  ladies — very  youthful — and 
at  the  head  of  them  Miss  Kate  Effingham,  whose  face  was 
brighter  than  all  the  rest  together.  Miss  Kate  was  clad  in 
a  charming  little  dress  of  green,  ana  on  her  glossy  curls  was 
perched  a  snow-white  gipsey  hat_  with  fluttering  ribbons 
her  companions,  rosy-  cheeked  like  herself,  were  quite  aa 
happy  looking,  and  all  brightened  at  their  approach,  for  the 
noble  Cornstalk  regiment  was  gallant  and  chivalric  to  the 
echo.  There  was  oiie  gentleman  who  displayed  a  joy  far 
more  extravagant  than  all  the  rest:  Crow  was  his  name,  o, 


212       MR.  CROW  TRIED  FOR  UNOFFICER-LIKE  CONDUCT. 

noble  lineage  and  ancient  ancestry ;  of  undeserved  misfor 
tunes,  yet  a  noble  soul :  in  a  word,  one  of  that  great  class  oi 
poor  gentlemen,  of  which  Virginia  has  been  proud  always. 
The  joy  of  Mr.  Crow  may  require  explanation,  for  however 
great  his  gallantry,  that  sentiment  could  not  prompt  the 
enthusiastic  somersets  which  he  turned  as  the  young  maidens 
issued  forth.  Behold  the  cause !  Behind  them  came  a 
young  African,  bearing  upon  his  shoulders  a  huge  hamper — 
a  hamper  which  said  plainly,  "  I  am  full  of  cakes,  and  pies, 
and  apples,  and  a  thousand  cates" — which  positively  groaned 
for  very  fulness — which  weighed  the  bearer  down  for  very  joy. 
This  made  Mr.  Crow  rejoice :  this  filled  him  with  sublime 
anticipation — this  caused  him  to  utter  the  shrill  scream  upon 
his  fife,  which  made  the  little  maidens  stop  up  their  ears, 
and  shout  with  laughter. 

And  so  they  have  reached  the  glade  in  the  forest,  and 
played  by  the  stream,  and  laughed  and  ran,  and  gathered 
flowers,  and  held  the  yellow  butter-cups  beneath  their  chins, 
and  blown  away  the  thistle-down  with  puffed  up  cheeks,  and 
ehased  the  striped  ground-squirrels  to  their  rocky  nests ;  and 
played,  and  laughed,  and  danced,  and  sang,  until  the  very 
forests  echoed  with  their  joyous  shouts,  their  merry  carol, 
their  exuberant,  overflowing,  wild,  delirious,  childlike,  merry, 
gay  and  joyous  mirth,  delight,  and  ringing  jubilant  laughter. 

Tommy  Alston  is  there,  and  many  other  Toms,  and 
Roberts,  Williams,  Johns  and  Jacks;  and  numberless  Fan 
nys,  Susans,  Carrys,  Ellens,  Phosbes,  Marys,  and  a  Cynthia 
to  add  her  morn-like  softness  to  the  May.  Mr.  Alston  and 
Willie  have  forgotten  their  league  offensive  and  defensive 
against  our  poetical  friend,  the  noble  Earl  of  Dorset :  they 
are  rivals :  and  they  struggle  for  the  privilege  of  waiting 
upon  Kate,  and  hunger  for  her  smiles  more  than  for  any 
hamper-smiles  ;  and  gather  flowers  for  her,  and  pick  out  apple 
seed  for  her  to  name,  and  when  the  candy  with  its  poetical 
mottoes  is  produced,  contend  who  shall  bestow  upon  the  little 
beauty  the  verses  most  indicative  of  burning  love,  and  ever 
lasting,  fond  devotion. 

For  now  the  hour  of  noon  has  come,  and  they  are  stretch 
ed  upon  a  sunny  bank,  beneath  a  noble  oak,  whose  leaves 
but  half  shut  out  the  sunlight ;  and  the  jolly  hamper  site 
upon  a  mossy  rock,  the  centre  of  all  eyes.  They  rifle  it 


MR.  OROW  TRIED  FOR  UNOFF1CER-LIKE  CONDUCT.        213 

with  joyous  laughter — taking  out  first  a  noble  pie  of  birds 
and  fowl.  They  plunder  this  of  its  jellied  contents,  and  with 
out  solicitation  the  young  maidens  eat  away,  very  unlike  the 
heroines  of  romance.  This  does  not  lower  them  however  in 
the  opinion  of  their  Corydons,  who  also  bid  adieu,  for  the 
moment,  to  romance,  and  plunge  their  pie-crusts  into  willing 
mouths,  and  talk  inarticulately  for  that  reason.  Then  they 
pass  on  to  the  sweet  things,  and  the  pie  is  generously  aban 
doned  to  Mr.  Crow,  and  his  relative  who  beats  the  drum — 
which  useful  instrument  is  hanging  on  a  tree  above  them 
Mr.  Crow's  mode  of  eating  is  not  so  elegant  as  we  might 
expect  in  a  gentleman  of  such  high  birth,  and  with  such 
grand  and  noble  political  ideas.  He  takes  the  brown  crock, 
which  contains  the  picturesque  debris  of  the  rifled  pie,  and 
carrying  it  to  some  distance,  deposits  it  upon  the  ground,  and 
then  sits  down,  extending  his  lower  members  upon  each  side 
of  it.  Thus  fixed,  he  can  look  down  rapturously  into  the 
recesses  of  the  crock,  and  plunge  his  fingers  in  without  diffi 
culty.  He  does  this,  and  the  rich  savor  causes  his  eyes  to 
roll  like  stars,  his  mouth  to  grin,  his  body  to  shake  with 
laughter.  He  sees  approach,  crawling,  the  disconsolate 
young  drummer,  whose  flag — but  we  refrain  :  he  perceives  a 
hand  held  out  :  he  hears  a  beseeching  voice — but  all  these 
things  are  unregarded.  His  rapturous  eyes  fixed  on  the  trees 
above,  he  does  not  deign  to  see.  The  drummer  crawls  up 
to  the  pie  with  cautious  movement ;  he  extends  his  hand — 
he  grasps  the  finest  morsel — ho  1  the  hand  of  Mr.  Crow  darts 
between — the  eyes  of  Mr.  Crow  flash  terrible  lightning — the 
face  of  Mr.  Crow  is  charged  with  fury,  and  a  gloomy  rage  : 
the  unfortunate  drummer  must  wait  until  there  is  no  longer 
any  thing  left  but  a  morsel  of  crust  and  a  little  gravy.  This 
much  is  generously  abandoned  by  Crow,  who,  having  finished 
his  first  course,  arrives  at  the  laughing  group  stretched  near, 
by  a  series  of  somersets.  He  reaches  the  group  just  as  Kate, 
who  is  laughing  rapturously,  is  about  to  put  a  small  lump  of 
French  candy  into  her  mouth.  Here  was  the  opening  for 
genius  :  he  squats  behind  her ;  he  extends  his  hand ;  the 
candy  disappears,  and  Mr.  Crow's  eyes  roll  with  delight,  and 
his  cheek  protrudes  like  that  of  a  monkey  who  has  stolen  a 
Uickqry  nut,  and  endeavored  to  conceal  it  in  his  mouth. 
This  feat  of  Mr.  Crow  is  considered  audacious  by  the 


2 1 4        ME.  CROW  TRIED  FOR  UNOFFICER-LIKE  CONDUCT. 

indignant  gallants :  they  lay  violent  hands  on  that  gentle 
man  :  but  they  call  a  drum- head  court-martial,  at  the  request 
of  the  delinquent. 

The  criminal  is  arraigned  according  to  the  the  rules  of 
war  :  he  is  called  upon  for  his  defence  by  the  uproarious 
group. 

This  call  is  not  unanswered  :  Crow  mounts  upon  a  fallen 
tree  :  he  looks  around  him  with  the  air  of  a  great  orator : 
he  scrutinizes  the  features  of  the  Court  of  Inquiry  and  cal 
culates  the  chances  of  an  acquittal :  the  chances  are  of  an 
azure  hue. 

Kate  is  called  upon  to  testify,  which  she  does  laughing, 
and  to  the  effect  that  the  prisoner  is  guilty.  Crow  endeavors 
in  vain  to  exclude  the  testimony,  on  the  ground  of  incompe- 
tency  in  the  witness  :  his  point  is  overruled  by  the  court. 

Other  witnesses  testify :  the  case  is  made  out :  he  is 
declared  guilty,  and  then  called  upon  to  say  why  the  sentence 
and  punishment  should  not  follow. 

Crow  brightens  at  this :  there  is  a  last  chance:  and  his 
ideas  are  quickened  to  astonishing  vigor  by  the  sight  of  the 
executioner  trimming  a  grape  vine. 

He  stretches  out  his  hand  persuasively  :  assumes  a  grave 
and  lofty  attitude,  and  commences  his  defence.  He  bases  it 
upon  three  points  : 

I.  He  wanted  the  candy. 

II.  He  liked  the  taste  of  it. 

III.  He  did  not  take  it. 

He  elaborates  these  points  ;  makes  a  tremendous  speech  ; 
and  winds  up  with  a  burst  of  eloquence  which  he  fondly 
hopes  may  avert  the  impending  fate.  In  vain  ;  popular  pre 
judice  has  warped  the  members  of  the  court ;  he  is  declared 
guilty  of  unofficer-like  conduct ;  he  is  unanimously  sentenced 
to  receive  the  bastinado. 

Crow  writhes,  struggles,  beseeches  ;  in  vain :  he  is  tied 
to  a  sapling  with  handkerchiefs,  all  the  time  uttering  piercing 
cries  of  anguish.  He  repents,  he  says :  he  do  ;  he  calls  upon 
Miss  Kate  Eff'nam  to  intercede  for  him,  but  that  young 
lady's  prayers  are  unavailing;  the  grape-vine  is  raised; 
Crow  makes  himself  as  small  as  possible  ;  the  instrument  01 
torture  is  about  to  descend;  the  crowd  laugh;  the  punish 
ment  for  unofficer-like  conduct  is  about  to  begin,  when  iud 


MR.  CROW  TRIED  FOR  UNOFFICER-LIKE  CONDUCT.        2lf 

denly  Mr.  Crow  utters  a  loud  exclamation,  to  the  effect  that . 
"  Ef  there  ain't  Johnny  Booker  wid  his  old  banjo  !  " 

All  eyes  are  suddenly  turned  to  the  spot  indicated  by 
Crow's  outstretched  hand,  and  there,  indeed,  is  seen  Mr. 
Booker  passing,  with  his  banjo  beneath  is  arm.  Crow  reaps 
the  reward  of  his  presence  of  mind,  for  the  crowd  imme 
diately  rush  towards  Mr.  Booker,  and  take  him  prisoner. 
Mr  Booker  is  a  relative  of  the  fiddler  at  the  Hall,  and  lives 
at  the  Bowling  Green.  He  is  as  great  a  master  on  the  banjo, 
as  his  relative  is  upon  the  violin.  His  face  is  the  color  ot 
ebony  ;  his  eyes  roll  j  his  lips  protrude ;  a  huge  shirt  collar 
saws  his  ears. 

He  is  good  natured,  and  willingly  consents  to  "  rattle  on 
Lis  banjo"  in  consideration  of  a  portion  of  the  feast.  He 
partakes  of  the  remains  of  the  hamper,  assisted  by  Crow, 
who  has  untied  the  handkerchiefs,  and  escaped ;  between 
them  they  dispose  of  all  that  is  left ;  then  Mr.  Booker  tunes 
his  banjo  and  commences. 

The  party  join  hands  and  fly  to  the  hilarious  music  around 
the  oak ;  the  forest  is  full  of  laughter ;  the  banjo  player  rolls 
his  eyes,  sways  about,  pats  his  foot ;  the  air  is  wild  with  the 
uproarious  rumble,  as  the  flying  fingers  dart  across  the  strings. 
By  and  by  Mr.  Booker  becomes  wild  with  delight  at  his 
own  performance ;  he  executes  a  pirouette  over  Crow,  who 
lying  on  the  ground  is  rapturously  imitating  him  with  the  assist 
ance  of  a  piece  of  fence  rail ;  he  commences  singing  the  song 
which  has  brought  his  name  and  his  dwelling-place  down  to 
modern  times,  encircled  by  a  halo  of  glory  ;  he  plays  so  fast 
that  the  furious  dance  runs  over  itself,  mingles  its  perform 
ances  in  inextricable  confusion,  and  finally  stops  from  pure 
inability  to  proceed. 

The  young  ladies,  half  reclining  on  the  ground,  pant  and 
laugh,  and  declare  that  they  never  before  had  such  a  dance. 
Mr.  Booker  bows  in  appreciation  of  this  compliment,  places  his 
banjo  under  his  arm,  seizes  a  chicken's  leg,  and  goes  on  his 
way  rejoicing. 

As  they  are  still  laughing  and  panting,  they  see  a  stal 
wart  gentleman  riding  upon  a  beautiful  horse  ;  and  this  gentle 
man,  who  is  singing  and  further  amusing  himself  with  twirling 
his  moustache,  makes  a  most  gallant  salute  with  his  hand. 
Bate  cries  that  it  is  Captain  Waters,  her  friend  and  admim, 


Si 6       MORT-REYNARD'S  REVENGE  ON  DON  MOtSTACHlO. 

and  runs  to  shake  hands  with  him,  an  infliction  which  the 
laughing  Captain  submits  to  with  great  equanimity,  after 
which  he  disappears,  singing. 

Kate  comes  back  and  finds  Willie  furious ;  she  quarrels 
with  him.  Will  repents,  and  solicits  the  favor  of  a  recon 
ciliation,  which  is  granted  as  soon  as  asked.  Will,  em 
boldened  by  this,  draws  out  his  true  love  indenture,  and 
requests  the  favor  of  her  signature.  Kate  laughs,  and  says 
Willie  is  a  goose ;  and  as  Jemmy  Alston  at  the  same  moment 
requests  a  song  from  her,  she  strikes  up  merrily : 

"  Fm  ower  young  to  marry  yet  I " 

and  all  are  delighted  with  her  arch  eyes  and  laughing  voice 
even  down  to  Crow,  who  turns  somersets  for  joy.  and  makes 
the  forest  echo  with  his  stunning  laughter,  and  his  wild 
"  hooras !  " 

Here  let  us  leave  the  party  as  we  found  them — laughing ; 
and  if  the  present  history  returns  no  more  to  that  great 
regiment  with  patriotic  souls,  and  splendid  banner,  and  im 
mortal  fife-player  more  than  all  the  rest,  the  reader  must 
not  think  that  we  have  been  guilty  of  neglect.  Considering 
the  number  of  personages  whose  fortunes  we  must  finish 
narrating,  the  great  regiment  has  occupied  space  sufficient. 
In  some  future  history,  we  hope  to  chronicle  its  warlike 
achievements,  and  heroic  deeds ;  especially  the  campaigns  of 
Mr.  Crow,  that  great  leader  and  fife-player  of  the  Revolution. 

At  present,  we  must  bid  the  Cornst&lk  regiment,  even 
Mr.  Crow,  a  long  farewell 


CHAPTER    XXXV 

THE  SEIGNEUR  MORT-RETNARD  TAKES  HIS  REVENGE  UPON  DON 
MOU8TACHIO. 

WE  shall  follow  Captain  Ralph. 

He  was  received  by  Mr.  Lee  with  open  arms,  that  gentle 
man  not  having  had  for  some  days  an  opportunity  to  ex 
change  ideas  with  any  one  upon  the  various  exciting  political 
topics  which  were  beginning  to  agitate  profoundly  the  minds 


ItOfet-REYNARD's  REVENGE  ON  DON  MOtJSTACHIO.        21? 

•f  all  men  in  the  colony  of  Virginia.  The  soldier  was  an 
excellent  outlet  for  the  flood  of  communication  which  had 
been  dammed  up  for  some  time,  and  the  old  gentleman  took 
exclusive  possession  of  him  the  moment  he  appeared  ;  they 
then  talked  uninterruptedly  until  dinner,  when  the  Captain  had 
an  opportunity  for  the  first  time  to  address  a  few  observation* 
to  the  young  ladies,  and  to  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton,  who  had 
"  just  dropped  in,"  as  he  expressed  it,  in  passing.  This 
breathing  space,  however,  did  not  last  very  long,  and  when 
the  stamp  act,  the  navigation  laws,  and  the  meeting  and 
probable  action  of  the  House  of  Burgesses  had  been  ex 
hausted,  Captain  Ralph  was  called  on  to  discuss  the  various 
events  of  the  seven  years'  war,  and  to  illustrate  those  events 
by  diagrams  drawn  as  before,  upon  the  table  with  a  drop  of 
wine. 

The  Captain  escaped  finally  to  the  ladies  in  the  parlor, 
whither  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton  followed  him,  and  he  tried  to 
converse  with  Henrietta.  But  he  found  it  for  some  reason 
very  difficult ;  he  could  not  extract  from  Miss  Henrietta 
much  more  than  blushes  and  "yes's,"  and  "  no's,"  and  he 
finally  gave  up  in  despair,  and  took  his  leave  with  a  decidedly 
gloomy  feeling.  Looking  as  we  do  calmly  upon  the  scene, 
we  may  very  easily  discern  the  cause  of  Miss  Henrietta's 
blushes  and  constraint, — of  the  soldier's  consequent  gloom. 
For  the  first  time,  he  had  grown  blind. 

Mr.  Jack  Hamilton  followed  the  soldier,  and  they  rode  on 
together.  The  Captain  endeavored  to  return  to  his  habitual 
good-humor,  and  after  a  time  succeeded  iu  producing  some 
thing  resembling  a  laugh. 

"  Ah,  mon  cher  Seigneur  Mort-Reynard  !  "  he  said,  "  it 
seems  to  me,  that  you  are  practising  finely  all  those  beauti 
ful  precepts  which  you  enunciated  in  my  hearing  some  days 
since  ?  " 

"  What  precepts,  my  dear  Don  ?"  replied  Mr.  Hamilton. 

"  Why,  your  woman-avoiding  doctrines." 

"  Hum  1  "  said  Mr.  Hamilton 

"  It  is  really  laughable,"  continued  the  soldier,  "  to  ob- 
Berve  how  great  the  difference  is  between  the  preaching  and 
practising  of  human  beings  in  this  wicked  and  sinful  world. 
Now  here  are  you,  my  dear  Mort-Reynard,  uttering  the  grand 
est  and  most  philosophical  sentiments — sentiments  which 


MORT-REYNARD'S  REVENGE  ON  I>ON  MotrsTActtlo. 

eause  your  friends  to  regard  you  with  a  mixture  of  respect 
and  admiration,  and  basta  !  no  sooner  are  our  backs  turned 
than  you  go,  morbleu  !  and  practise  just  the  reverse." 

"  Hum :  you  think  so  ?  "  observed  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton, 
1  you  are  very  keen-eyed,  Don  Moustachio.  Come,  how  have 
I  erred?" 

"  How !  " 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  Are  you  not  making  desperate  love  to  Miss  Clare,  par 
bleu — are  you  not  going  to  change  your  bachelor  condition  ? 

"Hum!" 

"  Answer ! " 

"  Well,  if  I  did." 

"  Well,  if  you  did,  indeed !  Egad !  you  will  turn  your 
coat.  Never  have  I  heard  such  an  enthusiastic  tirade  as 
you  uttered  the  other  day.  Oh,  by  heaven  !  you  would  not 
fall  into  the  snare !  you  would  not  be  caught  by  a  woman,  a 
pair  of  blue  eyes,  I  think  you  said.  We  young  and  inexpe 
rienced  fellows  might  fall  victims  to  the  belle  passion,  but 
you  ?  Not  the  Seigneur  Mort-Reynard,  whose  days  were  to 
be  sacred  to  the  pursuit  of  foxes,  and  to  the  disappointment 
of  all  individuals  of  the  divine  sex  who  laid  traps  for  the 
Seigneur  Jean  Reynard  Hamilton !  Ah,  mon  ami,  you  are 
one  more  victim — you  are  an  unfortunate  specimen  of  tho 
trapped — the  bamboozled — the  defeated — the  circumvented  ! 
You  will  ever  be  to  those  who  know  you,  parbleu  !  a  shining 
instance  of  the  fallacy  of  all  human  calculations,  of  the  over 
whelming  powers  of  the  sex — of  the  truth  of  your  own  de 
claration  that  when  a  woman  has  once  determined  to  marry 
a  man  he  need  not  resist — that  there  is  no  hope — that  he 
might  as  well  go  to  the  altar,  like  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter ! " 

And  the  Captain  twirled  his  moustaches  and  laughed  tri 
umphantly.  He  did  not  see  the  twinkle  of  mischief  in  the 
Seigneur  Mort-Reynard's  eye; — he  did  not  see  the  joyous 
look,  which  indicated  the  power  of  revenging  himself  upon  his 
reviler. 

"  Well,  well,  my  dear  Don,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  I  con- 
fass  there  is  something  in  what  you  say." 

"  You  acknowledge  it  ? ' 

"  Yes,  yes." 

«  Poor  fellow  1 " 


MORT-REYNARD'S  REVENGE  ON  DON  MOUSTACHIO.     2l£ 

"  True,  I  am  very  unfortunate,  but  how  could  I  resist 
such  a  pair  of  eyes  ?  "  said  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton,  plaintively. 

"  Quite  right,"  replied  the  Captain,  "  they  are  much  too 
blue  and  bright." 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"  Your  favorite  color." 

"  Precisely." 

And  Mr.  Hamilton  sighed. 

"  Don't  take  it  too  much  to  heart,  man  cher^  said  the 
Captain,  still  laughing,  "  many  a  stalwart  fellow  has  suffered 
the  same  misfortune." 

"  I  know  it,  Captain." 

"  No  one  can  resist." 

"  No  one,"  said  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton,  disconsolately ;  "  and 
even  such  a  strong-hearted  cavalier  as  yourself  must  not 
think  to  entirely  escape ;  you  have  not,  I  think." 

•it" 

«  Yes,  indeed." 

"  You  think  I  am  trapped  ?  " 

"  I  do,  indeed." 

"  Madam  Henrietta,  you  mean,  perhaps  1 " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  friend." 

"  Hum,  hum  !  "  said  the  Captain,  in  his  turn. 

"  Do  not  understand  me  as  blaming  you  for  falling  a  vie 
tim  to  her  brilliant  eyes,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  it  is  quite 
natural. " 

"  It  would  be,  I  confess,"  said  the  Captain,  cautiously. 

"  Come,  don't  deny  it." 

"  Deny  what,  mon  cher  ?  " 

"  That  you  are  over  head  and  ears  in  love,  my  poor  friend. 

The  Captain  uttered  a  sonorous  "  hem  1 "  and  said  : 

"  Really,  you  are,  I  think,  mistaken." 

«  No,  indeed." 

«  I  in  love  !  " 

"  Yes,  Don — desperately — profoundly ;  and  there  is  only 
one  thing  in  your  condition  which  makes  me  sorry  for  it,  aa 
your  friend.  Her  affections  are  engaged." 

"  Engaged  1 "  cried  the  Captain,  betraying  by  his  down 
•ast  countenance  the  secret  he  would  conceal. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  " 

She  engaged  ?  " 


220      MORT-REYNARD'S  REVENGE  ON  BON  MOUSTACHIO 

"  Her  affect  ions  I  said." 

"  Her  affections !  " 

"  Why  Don,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  you  must  be  blini 
Have  you  not  observed  Mr.  Effingham's  attentions  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Effingham!" 

"  And  the  manner  in  which  she  receives  them  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  Captain,  moodily ;  and  too  much  cast  down 
to  observe  the  twinkle  of  triumphant  mischief  in  his  com 
panion's  eye. 

"  Why  then  you  must  be  high  gravel  blind." 

"  Diable ! "  cried  the  Captain,  to  Mr.  Hamilton's  great 
delight. 

"  You  see  therefore  your  chances  are  not  so  good  as  you 
thought." 

"  Hum  !  "  said  the  Captain,  measuring  himself  in  thought 
against  his  rival. 

"  Effingham  is  her  cousin,  and  you  know  cousins  are  pro 
verbially  dangerous." 

The  Captain  made  no  reply,  preserving  a  gloomy  silence. 

"  I  thought  I'd  mention  it,"  said  his  companion,  in  a 
friendly  and  commiserating  tone ;  "  for  we  have  taken  so 
many  foxhunts  together,  that  I  naturally  feel  an  interest  in 
all  that  concerns  you." 

"  Effingham ! "  muttered  the  Captain,  buried  in  thought. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  I  say  again  you  really  must  be  blind — you 
cannot  see." 

"  This  troubles  me,  Hamilton,"  said  the  Captain  ;  "  and 
I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  do  admire  Miss  Henrietta." 

"Right!  perfectly  right!"  replied  Mr.  Hamilton,  shak 
ing  with  triumphant  laughter;  for  one  of  the  greatest  de 
lights  this  worthy  gentleman  could  experience  was  in  the  per 
petration  of  what  is  called  a  practical  joke. 

"  You  are  quite  sure  of  what  you  say?  "  continued  the 
Captain,  gloomily  twirling  his  moustache. 

"  Sure  ?  can  you  ask  !  " 

"  Morbleu  !  'tis  too  bad,"  said  the  soldier  ;  "  I  thought 
Effingham  was  remarkable  for  staying  away  from  the  house." 

"  Ah !  a  mistake,  my  friend ;  you  are  not  there  every 
day." 

"  True,"  replied  the  Captain,  with  the  same  gloomy  look. 

"  Now,  do  not  attribute,"  said  Hamilton   "  to  any  bad 


MORT-REYNARD  S  REVENGE  ON  DON  MOUSTACHlO.    22 . 

feeling  at  your  own  bantering,  this  little  piece  of  informa 
tion.  Of  course  I  never  deal  in  jokes  of  a  practical  nature 
— oh  no,  iny  dear  Don  Moustachio — utterly  impossible  with 
my  frank  and  unsophisticated  nature." 

And  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton  smiled  with  irony  and  tri 
umph. 

The  Captain  continued  to  think  gloomily  over  what  his 
companion  had  just  said,  and  they  rode  on  in  silence. 

Hamilton  could  scarcely  contain  his  laughter ;  and  once 
or  twice  was  on  the  point  of  betraying  himself.  He  felt 
some  remorse,  too,  and  this  also  was  near  causing  him  to 
inform  the  Captain  that  all  this  story  was  a  mere  effort  of  the 
imagination.  But  suddenly  he  remembered  more  than  one 
joke  of  a  practical  and  horse-play  nature  which  Don  Mous 
tachio  had  played  at  his  expense,  and  his  heart  was  again 
hardened.  He  determined  to  leave  his  companion  in  igno 
rance  for  two  or  three  days  at  least;  then  have  a  party  at 
the  Trap  ;  relate  the  Captain's  jokes  at  himself,  and  then  de 
tail  his  revenge. 

They  reached  in  silence  the  opening  of  the  road  which 
led  from  the  main  highway  into  Effingham  Hall.  Hamilton 
drew  rein. 

"  I  must  go  in  here,  my  dear  Don,"  he  said ;  "  come  and 
see  your  rival." 

"  Thanks,  sir,"  said  the  soldier,  gloomily,  "  but  no,  I 
prefer  proceeding  on  my  way." 

Hamilton  smiled. 

"  Ah,  you  are  gravelled,"  he  said. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  Captain,  frowning. 

"  You  are  angry." 

"  Morbleu,  not  at  all  1 "  said  Captain  Ralph,  looking 
jers. 

"Well,  that  is  right!  "  said  his  friend,  ready  to  explode 
with  pent-up  laughter ;  "  don't  suffer  these  little  trifles  to 
disturb  your  equanimity.  You  are  a  bold  cavalier,  my  dear 
Don,  and  I  should  feel  a  dreadful  amount  of  trepidation 
were  you  my  rival — had  you  selected  in  place  of  Miss  Hen 
rietta — well,  well,  we  will  not  speak  of  that.  Do  not  think 
that  I  bear  you  any  grudge,  and  have  been  jesting ;  of 
course  I  have  not ;  we  are  boon  companions,  jolly  hearts, 
lads  of  metal,  sworn  friends ; — bear  up  !  Perhaps  you 


222  SEIGNEUR  MORT-REYttARD  CATCHES  A  TARTAR. 

stand  some  slight  chance  yet,  and  a  powerful  exertion  of 
your  warlike  strategy  might  possibly  end  in  defeating  the 
enemy,  who,  however,  I  should  tell  you  as  a  friend,  is  a 
very  dangerous  antagonist.  He  is  her  cousin — he  is  pale 
and  interesting — he  is  a  man  whom  a  woman  may  both  ad 
mire  and  pity ;  and  you  know  very  well,  my  dear  Don,  when 
a  woman  experiences  a  sentiment  of  pity  for  a  man  what  it 
proverbially  leads  to  !  Don't  be  cast  down,  however.  Let 
me  see  you  in  a  day  or  two." 

And  shaking  with  laughter  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton  bowed  to 
his  companion,  who  rode  on  moodily,  and  took  his  way  toward 
the  Hall.  When  he  had  lost  sight  of  the  Captain,  he  uttered 
a  shout  of  laughter  which  made  the  wood  echo  again.  He 
had  taken  his  revenge  at  a  single  blow ;  and  we  shall  see 
what  came  of  it." 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

THE  8EIGNEUB  MOKT-REYNARD  CATCHES  A  TARTAR, 

THE  triumphant  Mr.  Hamilton  went  on  laughing,  as  we  have 
described,  toward  Effingham  Hall.  He  soon  reached  the 
mansion,  and  tying  his  horse,  walked  in,  whistling  merrily ; 
he  seemed  to  be  at  peace  with  himself  and  all  the  world — -to 
be  revelling  in  the  quiet  pleasure  of  a  man  who  has  an  ex 
cellent  conscience,  and  has  just  overcome  by  pure  force  of 
genius  all  opposed  to  him. 

He  found  the  front  door  open,  and  without  ceremony  en 
tered,  and  proceeded  to  the  library,  where  he  did  not  doubt 
he  should  find  some  one  of  the  family.  He  was  not  mis 
taken  ;  seated  languidly  by  the  window  he  saw  Mr.  Ef 
fingham. 

Mr.  Effingham  was  looking  out  of  the  window,  and  so 
profound  was  his  gloomy  reverie,  that  he  was  not  aware  of 
the  entrance  of  his  visitor.  His  brow  was  even  paler  than 
usual — his  lips  were  more  weary — his  head  drooped,  and  his 
eyes  were  half  closed  and  full  of  shadow.  His  posture, 
too,  was  very  indicative  of  his  mood  ;  it  betrayed  languor, 
indifference,  utter  prostration  of  spirits. 

Mr.  Effingham  was  not  aroused  from  his  gloomy  and 


SEIGNEUR  MORT-REYNARD  CATCHES  A  TARTAR.  223 

absorbing  thought  until  the  fox-hunter  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  shoulder. 

"  Why  Champ,"  he  cried,  "  thinking  eternally  ?  Really 
you  will  get  your  blood  in  such  a  state  with  this  keeping  in 
the  house,  that  even  running  a  fox  won't  set  it  going." 

Mr.  Effingham  shrunk  from  the  hand,  and  replied  coldly  : 

"  I  am  not  very  well." 

"  Not  well ! "  cried  Hamilton  ;  "  that's  because  you  don't 
ride  out." 

"  No,  it  is  not,"  said  Mr.  Effingham. 

"  I  tell  you  it  is,"  said  Hamilton,  who  honestly  believed 
what  he  said. 

"  Well,"  replied  Mr.  Effingham,  in  the  same  cold  and 
calm  voice,  full  of  constraint,  "  have  it  as  you  will." 

Hamilton  was  not  quick  at  observing  moods,  and  engaged 
in  contemplating  a  picture  of  the  winning  horse  at  the  last 
Derby  races,  which  the  squire  had  just  received  from  Eng 
land,  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  his  companion's  accent. 

"  Ah,  well  1 "  he  said  at  length,  "  perhaps  not — perhaps 
you  are  really  unwell,  but  what  a  splendid  second  thigh  that 
fellow's  got,  by  George  !  " 

Mr.  Effingham  made  no  reply,  gazing  out  of  the  window 
again.  Mr.  Hamilton  looked  at  him. 

"  Why,  Champ,  you  really  don't  seem  well  to-day,"  he 
said. 

"  I  am  not." 

"  You  are  brooding  over  something.  By  Jove  1  your 
eyes  are  as  deep  and  gloomy  as  Bob  Ashell's  after  his  losses 
at  the  Jamestown  races,  where  tnat  consumed  Kttle  horse  of 
Waters'  beat  Sir  Archy.  Bob  had  bet  heavily  on  Sir  Archy, 
and  he  cursed  Captain  Waters'  racer  from  Dan  to  Beer- 
sheba." 

"  Ah  ?  "  -said  Mr,  Effingham. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  and  Howard  said  no  less.  They  couldn't 
deny  that  the  Captain  had  complied  with  all  the  rules — given 
them  a  full  trial  of  his  horse  before  the  races — shown  Se- 
lim's  pedigree,  and  all  that;  but  it  seems  the  Arabian  didn't 
begin  running  until  the  second  heat  on  the  race-day  ;  and 
then  you  ought  to  have  seen  hin.  By  George  1  sir,  he  fairly 
picked  up  the  miles  and  tossed  'em  behind  him,  and  Waters 


224  SEIGNEUR  MORT-REYNARD  CATCHES  A  TARTAR. 

might  have  got  a  thousand  pounds  for  him  after  the  third 
heat." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  Mr.  Effingham,  with  the  same  cold  and 
constrained  air. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  continued  Hamilton,  carried  away  by  his 
mental  contemplation  of  Selim,  "  but  the  Captain  absolutely 
declined  — where  the  devil  does  he  get  all  his  money  ? — and 
prefers  riding  him.  By  Jove  !  just  think  of  a  man's  riding 
a  horse  worth  a  thousand  pounds  every  day  1 " 

And  Mr.  Hamilton  groaned  at  the  Captain's  extrava 
gance. 

"  I  have  just  left  him,"  he  continued,  "  and  I  ran  a  good 
joke  on  him,  which  I'll  tell  you  another  time — by  George  ! 
it  will  make  you  die  a-laughing." 

And  Mr.  Hamilton  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  which 
did  not  relax  Mr.  Effingham's  face,  however,  in  the  remotest 
degree. 

"  The  villain  has  been  overcoming  me  lately  on  a  variety 
of  occasions,"  Hamilton  went  on.  "  The  last  was  the  other 
day,  but  I  had  better  not  mention  that :  the  explanation 
would  be  awkward." 

And  Mr.  Hamilton  laughed  again. 

"  We  have  been  over  to  Mr.  Lee's,"  he  continued,  "  and 
you  never  did  hear  such  an  infernal  clatter  as  those  two 
men  kept  up,  with  their  wearisome  political  discussions." 

"  Indeed?"  repeated  Mr.  Effingham,  like  an  icicle. 

"Yes,  sir,  by  George!  they  nearly  drove  me  crazy. 
Nothing  but  the  Stamp  Act  this,  sir !  the  Stamp  Act  that, 
sir  !  the  Stamp  Act  the  other,  sir  !  the  Stamp  Act,  here, 
there,  every  where :  in  the  middle,  all  around,  on  both  sides! 
In  the  same  way  it  was  the  Navigation  Laws  this,  that,  and 
the  other  1  The  opening  of  the  House,  and  the  Governor's 
speech !  The  seven  years'  war,  which  I  was  in  hopes  had  all 
been  fought  and  forgotten  !  Then  it  was  this  nightmare  of 
the  Stamp  Act  again !  By  Jove  !  when  the  time  comes,  I 
shall  be  ready  to  fight  if  need  be,  but  where  is  the  use  of 
this  eternal  wearisome  discussion  ?  Don't  it  weary  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  fond  of  politics,"  said  Mr.  Effingham,  more 
and  more  coldly  :  he  was  about  to  add  a  "sir"  to  his  sen 
tence,  but  refrained. 


SEIGNEUR  MORT-REYNARD  CATCHES  A  TARTAB.  225 

"  By  George  !  "  said  Hamilton,  "  I  believe  you  are  fond 
of  nothing  on  earth." 

"  You  are  mistaken." 

"  Of  what  are  you  fond  ?  " 

"  Of  quiet,"  said  Mr.  Effirigham,  in  a  freezing  tone. 

Hamilton  did  not  observe  it. 

"  Ah,  that  means  you  do  not  like  to  engage  in  these  eter 
nal  discussions.  Well,  we  sympathize  then." 

Mr.  Effingham  inclined  his  head  coldly,  making  no 
reply. 

"  It  don't  follow,  however,  that  you  need  engage  in  them 
when  you  visit  Mr.  Lee,"  continued  his  visitor  j  "  a  man  is 
always  at  liberty  to  escape  to  the  ladies." 

Mr.  Effingham  was  silent. 

"  There  is  Henrietta  always  ready  to  discuss  fashions, 
travel,  books,  every  thing  but  politics." 

Mr.  Effingham  continued  still  silent,  but  his  breast 
heaved. 

"  Of  course  Clare  would  not  amuse  you,"  Hamilton 
went  on,  "  absorbed  as  she  naturally  is  in  our  approaching — 
hem  !  see  what  a  fellow  I  am !  " 

And  Mr.  Hamilton  seemed  to  wish  his  tongue  in  Guinea, 
Jericho,  or  other  remote  place,  where  it  would  not  easily  be 
got  at.  Mr.  Effingham  turned  away  his  head,  and  his  brow 
darkened. 

"  Clare  is  a  woman  out  of  a  thousand,"  continued  his 
visitor,  "just  the  girl  for  a  jolly  fellow,  not  too  soft  and 
lackadaisical,  but  quite  soft  enough  to  smooth  down  those 
bachelor  asperities  which  interfere  with  a  fellow's  standing 
in  society.  She  is  a  finer  girl  than  any  within  fifty  leagues, 
though  I  say  it. 

He  did  not  observe  Mr.  Effingham's  frown. 

"  You  would  be  benefited  now,"  continued  Mr.  Hamilton, 
"  if  you  would  go  over  there  oftener,  and  not  persist  in  shut 
ting  yourself  up  here  so  secluded  and  lonely.  By  George  ! 
you'll  expire  of  weariness." 

No  reply  :  but  the  brow  grew  darker. 

"  Come,  tell  me  how  this  ridiculous  habit  has  grown  OC 
you  ? — why  don't  you  go  and  see  Henrietta  ?  " 

Mr.  Effingham's  eye  flashed. 

'  She's  a  splendid  girl." 
24 


226          SEIGNEUR  MORT-REYNARD  CATCHES  A  TARTAR. 

No  reply. 

"  Of  course  I  don't  speak  of  Clare :  by  the  bye,  you  used 
V)  pay  her  some  attention — " 

He  did  not  observe  the  flush  rising  in  the  cheek. 

"  You  were  even  sweethearts  in  childhood.  How  things 
change  in  this  world  :  women  don't  continue  to  like  a  maq 
because  they  were  fond  of  him  when  he  was  a  boy." 

Mr.  Hamilton  was  treading  upon  dangerous  ground: 
Mr.  Effingham  was  losing  his  self  control  rapidly,  as  his 
heaving  breast,  and  eyes  filling  slowly  with  a  lurid  fire, 
plainly  indicated. 

<;  Strange  1  isn't  it  ?  "  continued  Hamilton,  "  that  after 
having  at  her  feet  so  many  elegant  fellows,  Clare  should — 
well,  well,  where  am  I  rushing  ?  I  can't  keep  any  thing 
secret.  But  the  more  I  study  these  women,  the  more  I  am 
puzzled.  I  can  understand  you,  now,  and  'most  any  man — 
but  a  woman  ?  By  George  1  that's  beyond  me — they're  too 
deep.  Now,  I  should  have  thought  Clara  would  have  liked 
— some  people,  better  than,  well,  say,  other  people:  that's 
non-committal.  By  George  !  you  are  pale,  Eflmgham !  How 
this  staying  in  the  house  is  hurting  you !  You  are  growing 
a  perfect  girl." 

Mr.  Eflingham  was  indeed  pale,  but  this  pallor  sprung 
from  rage :  every  word  that  Hamilton  uttered  was  another 
dagger  plunged  into  his  heart,  and  these  were  poisoned  dag 
gers — poisoned  with  contemptuous  coolness. 

Hamilton  assumed  a  commiserating  air,  and  said  with  a 
cool  and  easy  smile, 

"  Why  do  you  stay  from  Kiverhead  ?  Clare's  present 
relation  toward  a  nameless  individual  should  not  keep  you 
from  the  house.  Come,  tell  me  why  !  " 

The  measure  was  full. 

Mr.  Eflingham  rose  to  his  feet,  and  said  haughtily,  and 
with  flashing  eyes, 

"  Mr.  Hamilton,  be  good  enough  to  shape  your  discourse 
in  puch  a  manner,  that  I  may  not  be  compelled  to  insult 
you  in  my  own  house  !  " 

"  Insult  me !  "  cried  Hamilton. 

"  Yes,  sir  1  your  air  of  astonishment  does  not  deceive  me 
— I  am  not  the  dupe  of  your  good-humored  surprise  at  my 
address.  YOU  know  well,  sir,  that  I  have  cause  to  insujt 


feBIQNEUR  MORT-REYNARD  CATCHES  A  TARTAR.  5iii7 

you.  Not  content  with  making  me  wretched  and  miserable 
beyond  conception,  by  depriving  me  of  the  heart  of  the  only 
woman  I  have  ever  really  loved,  you  choose  to  come  here, 
and,  under  the  protection  of  this  roof,  utter  your  insulting 
and  ironical  speeches  in  my  very  teeth  !  By  heaven,  sir,  I 
will  not  endure  it !  I  am  not  sudden  in  quarrel,  sir,  and 
have  no  desire  to  engage  in  any  altercation ;  but,  beware, 
sir !  Woe  to  the  man  who  strikes  me,  as  you  have  done, 
through  the  heart ! — let  him  not  count  upon  a  very  lengthy 
forbearance !  You  affect  to  feel  surprise,  sir — you  look 
shocked  !  Very  well,  you  are  at  liberty  to  assume  any  ex 
pression  of  countenance  you  fancy  !  I  have  endeavored  to 
prevent  my  feelings  from  mastering  me,  sir — I  have  more 
than  once  curbed  my  rage,  and  my  despair — yes,  in  my  des 
pair,  it  is  humiliating  to  say  it,  but  I  wish  to  be  frank — I 
have  more  than  once  concealed  the  emotions  produced  in  me 
by  your  unfeeling  and  unworthy  allusions ;  but  I  now  say  to 
you,  sir,  that  my  patience  is  exhausted.  I  shall  not  always 
put  a  rein  upon  my  anger — I  will  not  attempt  it.  Go,  sir  1 
and  laugh  at  me  with  that  lady  who  has  chosen  you  in  my 
place,  as  she  had  the  right  to  do.  Go,  sir !  and  mock,  de 
ride,  sprinkle  your  ambiguous  voices,  and  despise  me  to  your 
heart's  desire  But  beware,  sir,  how  you  come  hither  to 
taunt  and  jest  at  me — to  make  me  the  butt  of  your  wit  and 
humor — to  insist  that  I  too  shall  join  in  the  laugh  at  my 
self,  and  wait  until  you  have  gone,  before  I  tear  my  breast 
and  curse  you  1 " 

It  was  impossible  to  describe  the  passionate  emotion  with 
which  these  words  were  uttered ;  Mr.  Effingham  looked 
dangerous ;  his  eyes  flashed ;  his  lip  writhed  ;  his  haughty 
brow  was  covered  with  perspiration ;  and  his  teeth  were 
clenched.  As  he  uttered  the  last  words,  he  surveyed  Hamil 
ton  with  one  of  those  haughty  glances,  which  seem  like 
flashes  of  fire,  and  for  a  moment  hesitated  whether  he  should 
add  any  thing  to  what  he  had  uttered.  The  struggle  was 
brief;  he  restrained  himself,  and  bowing  with  cold  dignity, 
he  left  the  room. 

Hamilton  for  a  moment  continued  gazing  aft$r  him  com 
pletely  dumbfoundered,  and  in  no  little  anger.  Then  as  he 
disappeared,  the  fox-hunter  rose,  hesitated  a  moment,  grasped 
his  hat  and  whip  furiously,  and  hastily  left  the  house. 


228  A    COUNTRY    CffCKCH    IN    1765. 

"  By  Jove  !  "  who  would  have  thought  it  ?  "  Jie  said.  "  1 
thought,  however,  it  was  wrong.  This  joking  will  ruin  ine  !  * 

And  uttering  a  prolonged  whistle,  indicative  of  anger  and 
dissatisfaction,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

A  COUNTRY  CHURCH  IN  176B. 

IF  the  reader  will  deign  to  cast  his  eyes  back,  he  will  see  that 
the  events  we  have  just  related,  occurred  on  days  imme 
diately  succeeding  each  other.  Captain  Ralph  had  finished 
Lanky's  business  on  Friday  morning ;  the  picnic  in  the 
woods  had  taken  place  upon  Saturday  forenoon,  that  day 
being  holiday  for  the  Cornstalk  regiment ;  then  this  same 
Saturday  had  seen  the  soldier  on  his  way  to  Riverhead,  and 
had  witnessed  his  defeat  by  the  fox-hunter.  Lastly,  the 
scene  we  have  this  moment  related,  occurred  in  the  afternoon, 
at  the  Hall,  as  the  reader  knows. 

We  now  beg  leave  to  continue  our  history,  with  the 
events  of  the  next  day — Sunday ;  and  for  the  purpose  of 
connecting  the  narrative  by  links  so  plain  that  they  will  need 
no  commentary  at  our  hands,  shall  accompany  the  Effingham 
Hall  carriage  to  church. 

The  chariot  drove  up  to  the  old  edifice,  which  was  gilded 
by  the  fresh  light  of  the  pure  May  morning,  and  deposited 
its  freight  at  one  of  the  doors,  at  which  stood  a  group  of 
young  men,  whose  self  imposed  duty  was  to  assist  the  ladies 
from  their  chariots  when  they  arrived.  The  chariot  con 
tained  the  whole  family  from  the  Hall,  who  looked  very  calm 
and  happy,  with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Eflingham,  whose  face 
was  unusually  pale,  and  all  entered  the  old  church  and 
devoutly  knelt.  Perhaps  a  word  of  description  would  not  be 
inappropriate  here ;  for  these  old  houses  of  the  Lord 
differed,  we  need  not  say,  materially  from  those  of  the  present 
day  and  generatioa.  Christ  Church  was  an  old  building  of 
discolored  stone,  and  above  it  waved  the  boughs  of  a  great 
elm ;  the  windows  and  doors  were  surmounted  by  little  roofs, 
so  to  speak,  supported  by  iron  rods ;  a  stone  slab  lay  befor* 


A    COUNTRY    CHURCH   IN    1765  229 

each  door.  Within,  the  feet  trod  upon  flag  stones,  and  the 
pews  were  enormously  high,  and  with  perfectly  straight  backs. 
In  these,  the  audience  were  almost  buried.  On  the  walls  of 
the  chancel  were  inscribed  the  ten  commandments — gilt 
letters  on  an  azure  ground ;  and  below  the  reading  desk  and 
pulpit,  stood  the  box  and  bench  of  the  "  clark,"  whose  duty 
was  to  make  the  responses.  The  pulpit  was  very  lofty,  and 
in  the  shape  of  a  tub;  it  was  reached  by  two  circular  flights 
of  steps,  and  above  it  was  stretched  a  canopy,  on  the  nether 
side  of  which  a  golden  star  irradiated,  while  upon  the  sum 
mit,  a  dove  expanded  its  wings,  symbolizing  the  spirit  of  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

The  old  edifice,  as  we  have  said,  was  overshadowed  by 
the  boughs  of  a  great  elm,  and  beneath  this  elm  were  a  num 
ber  of  monuments,  which  told  the  virtues  of  those  who  slept 
beneath.  Some  of  the  tombstones  were  adorned  with  coats 
of  arms,  and  flourishing  panegyrics,  which  make  the  dead 
more  noble  and  perfect  than  the  great  father  of  Manrique ; 
— many  an  armiger  was  made  matchless  and  superior  to 
Bayard  the  reproachless  knight ;  many  a  noble  lady  had  her 
charities  narrated  in  that  grand  eulogistic  rhetoric  of  the 
past,  and  still  lived  in  the  eyes  of  all,  through  the  veiled 
head  carved  on  the  stone,  with  clasped  hands.  But  then 
there  were  other  memorials  which  more  deeply  impressed 
the  beholder — plain  stones,  indicating  the  resting-place  of 
some  child,  with  those  simple  inscriptions  which  affect  men 
so  strangely  as  they  wander  through  these  resting  places  of 
the  dead ;  for  all  that  is  sublime  is  simple.  Great  feeling 
does  not  rant ;  and  these  small  white  headstones  seemed  to 
have  more  of  the  other  world  about  them,  so  to  speak,  thar 
the  fine  monuments  which,  though  the  feeling  of  those  who 
erected  them  were  doubtless  quite  as  pure,  yet  seemed  to 
cling  still  to  the  pomps  and  vanities,  dead  now  to  those  who 
slept. 

The  tombstones,  white,  against  the  green  velvety  grass, 
made  the  churchyard  pure  and  happy,  not  gloomy.  They 
looked  calm  and  peaceful ;  and  the  good  Mr.  Christian's  flock 
listened  more  attentively,  as  they  murmured  the  responses 
more  devoutly,  for  having  before  their  eyes  those  memorials 
of  rest  and  peace.  And  children  played  about  them  :  men 
came  and  read  the  inscriptions,  and  mused,  thinking  of 


230  A    COUNTRY    CHURCH    IN    1765. 

the  holy  dead ;  and  even  the  birds  singing  above  the  old 
edifice  seemed  better  pleased  to  have  the  marbla  head 
stones  there.  So  the  old  mansion  rested  quietly  beneath 
its  whispering  elm,  among  the  graves.  It  looked  calm  and 
hopeful,  giving  promise  of  another  world. 

Mr.  Christian's  sermon  was  upon  humility,  and  the  danger 
of  pride  and  vaingloriousness — of  those  moods  of  mind  when 
the  heart  and  brain  fancy  themselves  equal  to  every  thing 
and  so  spurn  all  humble  thoughts.  He  spoke  of  that  sub 
lime  humility  of  our  Saviour,  when  he  washed  his  disciples' 
feet ;  and  the  low,  eloquent  voice  was  full  of  soothing,  ten 
der  emotion.  He  then  presented  the  evils  arising  from  a 
haughty  and  overbearing  spirit,  and  denounced  them  with 
impassioned  vigor :  he  branded  the  proud  and  self-willed 
man  until  the  picture  grew  hateful  and  repulsive  ;  he  then 
depicted  the  strength  and  greatness  of  humility,  even  in  a 
worldly  sense :  the  overwhelming  power  of  conscious  weak 
ness.  Finally ;  he  enforced  his  doctrines  by  the  Saviour's 
command  to  men,  to  grow  like  little  children  in  hnmility  if  they 
would  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  All  this  the  wor 
thy  pastor  enforced  with  a  mild  strength  which  produced  a 
strong  impression  upon  his  hearers.  When  he  raised  hia 
hands  to  bless  his  flock  before  dismissing  them,  all  hearts 
felt  purer  for  his  teachings,  and  charity  and  humility  were 
in  every  face. 

Then  succeeded  that  lengthy  shaking  of  hands  and  inter 
change  of  neighborly  gossip  which  characterizes,  we  believe, 
all  country  churches.  And  so  while  Miss  Alethea  was  in 
quiring  about  a  variety  of  interesting  matters  within,  with 
her  lady  friends,  the  squire  laughed  without,  strutting  about 
in  his  fine  Sunday  suit,  and  not  imagining  for  a  single  mo 
ment  that  he  wanted  humility  : — the  preacher's  sermon  was 
meant  for  other  people. 

Mr.  Efiingham  leaned  against  the  trunk  of  the  great  elm, 
pale,  haughty,  and  only  half  returning  the  bows  made  to 
him.  Once,  however,  he  did  rise  suddenly  erect  and  make 
a  proud  and  ceremonious  inclination  of  his  head : — Mr.  Ham 
ilton  had  bowed  to  him  in  passing.  Beyond  this,  he  showed 
scarcely  any  consciousness  of  where  lie  was.  Absorbed  in 
his  gloomy  reverie,  he  paid  as  little  attention  to  the  brilliant 
groups  of  fair  ladies,  who  looked  with  no  slight  admiration 


A  COUNTRY  ;HURCH  m   J765.  23* 

on  his  pale,  handsome  face,  as  he  had  done  to  the  sermon 
That  sermon  had  not  produced  the  least  impression  on  him— 
he  had  not  heard  it  even ;  for  near  him  sat  Clare,  and  all  his 
gloom  had  returned  at  sight  of  her. 

He  loved  her  now  a  thousand  fold  more  than  ever  :  she 
was  dearer  to  him  than  all  the  world  beside :  the  sight  of 
her  brought  back  to  him  every  happy  day  he  had  spent  in 
the  past— the  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  she  was  lost  to 
him  renewed  his  most  passionate  anguish.  It  was  a  singu 
lar  spectacle  which  he  presented,  standing  thus  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  gay,  laughing  crowd,  as  perfectly  isolated  as  if  that 
crowd  did  not  exist,  and  nothing  were  around  him  but  the 
calm  white  tombstones.  His  brow,  as  we  have  said,  was 
pale,  his  eyes  were  shadowy,  his  lips  compressed  ;  he  might 
have  been  taken  for  one  of  those  characters  of  romance  who 
throw  their  fiery  passions  and  wild  natures  into  the  tranquil 
stream  of  ordinary  life,  and  lash  it  into  foam.  And,  in  Mr. 
Effingham's  case,  this,  as  we  know,  was  not  very  -  far  from 
the  fact ; — he  had  defied  society  for  a  woman,  carried  that 
woman  off,  and  done  many  other  things  which  much  better 
suited  heroes  of  poetry  or  opera  grandees,  than  a  plain  Vir 
ginia  citizen; — and  now  we  see  in  his  face  the  ravages  of 
that  wild,  passionate  character,  so  dangerous  when  aroused. 

The  congregation  slowly  dispersed,  and  the  Riverhead 
carriage  and  that  of  the  squire  drew  up  together.  Mr.  Ef- 
fingham  saw  a  form  that  made  him  tremble  pass  before  him. 
His  hand  for  a  moment  sustained  the  white  arm,  covered 
only  with  a  diaphanous  lace,  as  he  assisted  her  into  the 
chariot,  he  knew  not  how.  A  shadowy  mist  seemed  to  en 
velope  all  from  which  a  pair  of  soft  blue  eyes,  and  a  young 
girl's  blushing  cheeks  emerged — and  then  the  four  horses 
were  whipped  up,  he  heard  distinctly  the  crack  of  the  lash, 
and  the  vision  disappeared.  He  saw  two  cavaliers,  one 
riding  upon  each  side — the  one  was  smiling  the  other  gloomy. 
The  smiling  one  was  Mr.  Hamilton,  who  was  talking  through 
the  window  to  Clare,  and  looking  back  occasionally  at  Mr. 
Effingham,  who  ground  his  teeth.  The  gloomy  cavalier  was 
Captain  Ralph,  who  had  caught  a  smile  directed  by  Henri 
etta  towards  Mr.  Effingham,  and  totally  unseen  by  that  gen 
tleman. 

We  may  hazard  here  the  observation  that  lovers  are 


THE    CHILD    AND    THE   PORTRAIT. 

wholly  destitute  of  conscience,  magnanimity,  common  sense, 
and  ordinary  courtesy.  Mr.  Hamilton  was  laughing  at  his 
friend,  the  Captain  was  quarrelling  with  a  smile  of  simple 
courtesy. 

Mr.  Effingham  entered  the  Effingham  chariot  with  the 
squire,  Miss  Alethea,  and  Kate,  and  Will  mounted  his 
pony.  The  old  sexton  locked  the  church,  and,  putting  his 
spectacles  away,  tottered  homeward.  Church  was  over. 


THE  CHILD  AND  THE  PORTRAIT. 

THE  great  clock  at  the  Hall  has  just  struck  ten  ;  and  those 
echoes,  which  seem  to  wake  as  mortals  go  to  sleep,  answer 
it  through  the  shadowy  apartments. 

Mr.  Effingham  and  Kate  are  seated  in  the  library  read 
ing;  a  few  twigs  in  the  great  fireplace  crackle  and  sing  as 
they  crumble  into  white  ashes ;  the  burning  embers  slowly 
donning  those  snowy  hoods  which  shroud  them  when  they 
are  about  to  die.  A  faint  blue  smoke  occasionally  curls  up 
ward,  and  the  old  grotesque  brass  handirons  cast  shadows. 

For  a  time,  nothing  is  heard  but  the  singing  of  the 
fire,  which  has  not  yet  mastered  one  or  two  sappy  twigs. 

At  last  Mr.  Effingham  lays  down  his  book,  and  utters  a 
sigh  which  attracts  Kate's  attention. 

The  child  raises  her  head  from  the  Sunday-school  vol 
ume  she  has  been  reading. 

Their  eyes  meet :  she  gazes  at  him  wistfully — at  the 
pale  brow,  the  sad  lips,  the  weary  eyes :  his  head  droops. 

The  child  closes  her  book,  softly  approaches  him,  and 
lays  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  Mr.  Effingham  smiles 
Badly,  and  passes  his  hand  slowly  over  the  bright  locks  of 
the  child. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  cousin  ?  "  asked  Kate,  "  I  don't 
like  to  hear  you  sighing  so." 

"  Nothing,"  he  says. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  happy,"  Kate  says,  wistfully 
1  and  I  cannot  feel  happy  if  you  are  not." 


THE   CHILD    AND    THE    PORTRAIT.  233 

Mr.  Effingham  only  presses  the  little  form  more  closely 
with  his  encircling  arm. 

Kate  continues,  laying  her  cheek  on  his  shoulder,  and 
looking  up  softly  into  his  shadowy  eyes  : 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  well,  dear  oousin,  and  it  grieves 
me.  Indeed,  indeed  it  does." 

"  I  am  not  sick — no,  not  sick,"  he  murmurs,  "  but — " 

And  his  hand  unconsciously  seeks  his  heart  and  rests 
there. 

The  child  understands  at  once,  with  the  marvellous  in 
stinct  of  affection. 

"  That  is  the  worst  kind  of  sickness,"  she  says,  in  a  low, 
tender  voice,  "  heart-sickness." 

"  Do  you  think  my  heart  is  sick  ?  "  he  says  with  a  wist 
ful  smile,  his  head  drooping  more  and  more. 

"  I  don't  know,"  the  child  answers,  turning  aside  her 
face. 

"  I  should  be  very  unhappy  were  that  so,"  he  continued. 

"  Yes,"  murmurs  Kate. 

"  And  still  more  unhappy,  if  you,  dear,  ever  felt  what — " 

He  does  not  finish — the  form  of  the  child  is  agitated 
slightly. 

"  Men  can  bear  having  their  hopes  all  disappointed, — 
their  affections  chilled, — their  lives  rendered  dark  and 
gloomy  by  those  afflicting  trials,  which  they  must  pass 
through  in  existence,"  he  goes  on  thoughtfully,  "  but  chil 
dren  should  not  feel  them  ; — were  you  to  be  distressed, 
Katy,  I  think  I  should  find  it  harder  to  bear  than  all." 

The  child's  face  turns  away  still. 

"  I  pray  you  may  never  feel  the  afflictions  I  have  gon« 
through — formerly,"  he  says. 

The  head  nestles  closer  and  the  tender  form  shakes. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dear  ?  "  he  asks,  observing  this. 

Kate  makes  no  reply. 

"  Have  I  made  you  feel  badly  ?  See  how  thoughtless  1 
am  !  Why,  Kate — crying  ?  * 

She  leans  upon  his  shoulder,  sobbing ;  her  eyes  are  full 
of  tears. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  cousin,"  she  murmurs  ;  "  I  know  it  is 
very  foolish ;  I  am  only  a  child — don't  mind  me." 

"  Only  a  child,  Katy  ?     Ah !  if  I  could  go  back  to  the 


234  TftE    CfllLD    AND    THE   PORTRAIT. 

time  when  I  was  only  a  child.     I  am  a  man  now — but  don't 
cry,  dear?" 

"  I  won't,"  says  Kate,  sobl  ing  and  wiping  her  eyes ;  "  it 
s  not  right  to  cry,  but  you  know  I  can't  bear  to  see  you 
distressed." 

"  I  have  got  over  it — if  I  was  so,"  he  replies,  caressing 
the  child's  hair;  "  come,  now,  Kate — don't  cry." 

"  I  will  not,"  says  the  child,  and  she  dries  her  tears,  and 
slowly  becomes  calm  again. 

"  I  am  very  foolish,"  she  murmurs,  "  but  I  won't  give 
way  any  more.  It  is  not  right  for  us  to  give  way  to  all  our 
feelings,  and  I  didn't  think  I  should.  But  I  was  thinking 
of  what  you  had  suffered,  and  I  couldn't  help  it.  I'm  done 
now.  and  don't  mind  me,  cousin  Champ.  It  is  all  over." 

The  low  words  die  away  in  the  quiet  room,  and  there  is 
a  silence,  the  man's  hand  still  thoughtfully  caressing  the 
child's  hair. 

"  Kate,"  he  says  at  last,  "  I  think  I  would  like  to  hear 
you  read  a  little  from  your  Bible ;  I  did  not  listen  in  church 
to-day." 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  says  Kate,  "  I  will  get  it  presently." 

And  in  a  moment  she  has  returned,  and  is  seated  in  his 
lap,  with  the  book  open. 

"  Will  you  hear  this  ?  "  she  says,  with  a  soft  look  of  her 
dewy  eyes,  and  pointing  as  she  speaks  to  a  passage  on  the 
page. 

"  Any  thing,  Kate,"  he  says. 

And  the  child,  leaning  her  head  on  his  breast,  com 
mences  reading  in  a  low,  earnest  voice,  slowly  and  feel 
ingly  : 

"  '  But  he  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions ;  he  was 
bruised  for  «ur  iniquities  :  the  chastisement  of  our  peaoe 
was  upon  him,  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed. 

"  '  All  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray  ;  we  have  turned 
every  one  to  his  own  way ;  and  the  Lord  hath  laid  on  him 
the  iniquity  of  us  all. 

"  '  He  was  oppressed  and  he  was  afflicted,  yet  he  opened 
not  his  mouth :  he  is  brought  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter ; 
and  as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers  is  dumb,  so  he  opened 
not  his  mouth. 

"  '  He  was  taken  from  prison  and  from  judgment ;  and 


THE   CHILD    AND    THE   POJ  TRAIt.  233 

who  shall  declare  his  generation  ?  for  he  was  cut  off  out  of 
the  land  of  the  living :  for  the  transgression  of  my  people 
was  he  stricken.' " 

The  soft  low  voice  paused,  and  the  child  seems  to  be  ab 
sorbed  in  thought :  her  eyes  go  back,  and  she  reads  lowly  : 

"  '  He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men  ;  a  man  of  sor 
rows  and  acquainted  with  grief;  and  we  hid,  as  it  were,  our 
faces  from  him  :  he  was  despised,  and  we  esteemed  him  not 

" '  Surely  he  hath  borne  our  griefs  and  carried  our  sor 
rows  ;  yet  we  did  esteem  him  stricken,  smitten  of  God,  and 
afflicted. 

" '  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions ;  he  was 
bruised  for  our  iniquities ; '  "  repeated  the  child,  closing  the 
book  and  fixing  her  eyes  thoughtfully  upon  the  fire ; 
"  '  bruised  for  our  iniquities.' " 

The  low,  earnest  voice  dies  away  into  a  whisper,  and  she 
is  silent. 

He  looks  at  the  thoughtful  little  face  for  some  moments, 
and  says : 

"  Katy,  I  wish  you  could  make  me  good." 

"  I  ?     I,  cousin  Champ  ?  "  she  says. 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  like  yourself." 

Kate  shakes  her  head  sadly. 

"  I  am  not  good,"  she  replies. 

"  If  you  are  bad,  what  am  I  ?  The  idea  is  not  agree 
able,"  he  murmurs. 

"  What  did  you  say,  cousin  ?  " 

"  That  is  just  what  I  wished  to  hear  you  read,"  he  says, 
sighing ;  "  and  now,  Kate,  remember  what  I  asked  you  once 
upon  a  time  1 " 

"  What,  cousin  ?  "  says  the  child,  thoughtfully. 

"  I  asked  you  to  tell  me  what  heaven  was — what  you 
thought  it  was." 

"  Did  you  ?— but  I  don't  know." 

"What  do  you  think?" 

"  I  think  it  is  a  place  where  every  body  loves  God." 

"  Yes,"  he  says. 

"  And  that's  why  I  think  it  must  be  happier  than  this 
world,  where  we  don't  love  him  enough.  Oh !  cousin 
Champ,"  she  goes  on.  thoughtfully,  "  what  a  happy  place 
heaven  must  be.  I  think  of  it  in  this  way.  I  think  of  t&t 


236          THE  CHILD  AND  THE  PORTRAIT. 

people  and  things  I  love  best  in  the  world,  and  of  all  the 
happiest  things  we  have.  And  then,  when  I  feel  so  oalm 
and  grateful,  I  say  to  myself:  '  all  this  is  nothing  to  heaven  ! 
Fof  in  heaven,  you  know,  nothing  can  ever  hurt  us  :  here 
we  have  to  suffer,  and  sometimes  the  people  we  love  do  not 
love  us,  you  know,  and  we  are  afflicted  and  distressed ;  or 
they  change,  you  know,  from  loving  us,  and  don't  care  for 
us  any  more  :  or  they  grow  sick  and  die  ;  and  all  this  inter 
feres  with  our  happiness.  It  is  not  so  in  heaven,  the  Bible 
says.  There  we  love  God,  and  you  know  God  does  not 
change  if  we  obey  and  love  him  :  he  will  always  love  us 
dearly  if  we  love  and  fear  him.  There  is  no  sickness  in 
heaven,  and  no  affliction — and  then,  again,  think  of  eternity  ! 
Eternity  !  I  don't  know  how  to  think  about  it,  but  the 
thought  of  eternal  happiness  seems  very  plain  to  me.  In 
this  world,  we  can't  live  very  long,  you  know,  and  no  mat 
ter  how  happy  we  are,  we  must  soon  die  and  give  all  up 
In  heaven,  we  won't  die  ever,  you  know,  and  we  will  not 
suffer,  but  be  happy  and  love  every  body  for  ever  and 
ever." 

Kate  is  silent ;  she  is  thinking. 

"  I  try  to  be  good,"  she  continues,  thoughtfully,  "  and  I 
pray  mamma  to  look  down  on  me  and  keep  me  good  if  she 
can ;  but  I'm  afraid  I'm  very  bad.  I  don't  think  about  God 
enough  and  the  Saviour,  and  I  am  too  thoughtless,  as  we 
were  in  the  woods  yesterday,  you  know — when  we  had  our 
picnic.  But  I  can't  help  laughing  when  I  feel  like  it  easily ; 
but  I  mustn't  be  too  thoughtless.  I  try  and  think  about 
heaven,  and  how  happy  mamma  and  papa  are,  you  know;  and 
how  good  Jesus  was  to  us,  to  be  '  bruised  for  our  iniquities. 
Oh  !  think,"  repeats  the  calm,  low  voice,  "  he  was  bruised 
cousin  Champ — '  bruised  for  our  iniquities.'  " 

And  the  child  is  silent  again. 

He  looks  at  the  tender,  thoughtful  face,  and  from  it  to  the 
portrait  over  the  fireplace. 

"  Strikingly  alike  !  "  he  murmurs,  and  then  adds  aloud : 

"  Yes,  dear,  we  are  very  bad  to  forget  it — as  I  do  always : 
well,  well,  you  have  made  me  feel  much  happier,  and  now  you 
had  better  go  to  bed." 

Kate  raises  her  head,  kisses  him  according  to  the  Virgin 


HOW   CAPTAIN    WATERS    K'AS    CHALLENGED.  237 

ia  custom,  and  after  leaning  hei   face  affectionately  on  his 
shoulder  for  a  moment,  slowly  retires. 

He  looks  after  her  for  some  minutes  :  raises  his  eyes 
again  to  the  portrait :  looks  at  the  little  Bible :  hesitates, 
buried  in  thought  Then  he  rises  suddenly,  goes  to  the 
table,  opens  his  portfolio,  and  taking  a  pen  and  a  sheet  ot 
paper,  writes : 

"  MY  DEAR  HAMILTON  : 

"  I  regret  the  harshness  and  passion  of  my  address  to  you 
yesterday.  I  trust  you  will  not  permit  it  to  remain  in  your 
recollection.  I  have  no  calmness  on  that  subject,  and  for 
this  reason  must  ask  you  never  again  to  allude  to  it.  I  am 
afraid  of  myself.  For  G-od's  sake !  don't  arouse  the  devil  in 
me  when  I  am  trying  to  lull  it,  at  the  risk  of  breaking  my 
heart  in  the  attempt. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  add. 

"  Your  friend, 

0.  EFFINGHAM." 
"  The  Hall,  Sunday  night" 

Then  folding  up  this  note,  he  directed  it  to  Mr.  Hamil 
ton,  placed  it  on  the  mantel-piece,  and  with  a  long,  gloomy 
sorrowful  look,  regarded  the  portrait  of  his  mother.  That 
portrait  seemed  to  smile  on  him — the  mild  eyes  to  bless  him  • 
those  eyes  seemed  living  once  again,  and  the  lips  almost 
moved. 

A  profound  sigh  shook  his  bosom,  and  his  head  drooped : 
but  when  he  retired  his  heart  was  not  so  heavy,  and  that 
sombre  bitterness  of  mood  had  passed  away.  The  old,  sad 
look  came  back  again,  and  the  moon  lit  up  the  pale  counte 
nance  with  its  light,  and  smiled. 

The  weary  heart  slept  tranquilly. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

HOW  CAPTAIN  WATERS  WAS  CHALLENGED  TO   MORTAL  COMBAT. 

"  THE  manner  in  which  Captain  Ralph  vituperated  Lanky,, 
upon  that  occasion,  was  positively   shocking      In  the   fir*t 


238  HOW    CAPTAIN    WATERS    WAS    CHALLENGED. 

place  it  was  uncalled  for ;  in  the  second  place  it  was  ungen 
erous,  considering  Lanky's  inoffensive  character ;  in  the 
third  place,  it  was  too  great  an  expenditure  of  genius  upon  an 
humble  personage,  and  an  ordinary  occasion. 

"  The  Captain  swore  philologically,  and  with  an  eye  to 
ethnology.  He  proceeded  geographically,  first  exhausting 
that  department  of  Spanish  and  Portuguese,  after  which  he 
went  on  to  France,  and  swore  that  oath-loving  land  quite 
through,  from  Gascony  and  Provence  to  Normandy.  He 
did  not  neglect  Germany  and  Prussia,  and  paid  due  honor 
to  Italy,  where  the  science  has  perhaps  arrived  at  its  climax. 
And  in  all  this  flood  there  was  no  mixture  of  the  deeply 
impure.  The  Captain's  expletives  were  of  that  pleasant  and 
humorous  description,  which  are  not  inconsistent  with  a  very 
charitable  nature,  and  we  may  in  a  single  word  describe  the 
handling  of  this  great  master,  by  saying  that  he  swore  poet 
ically  and  from  the  imagination,  not  coarsely  and  from  envy 
and  hatred. 

"  Having  exhausted  Syria  and  Persia,  the  Captain  mod 
estly  paused  :  he  had  not  travelled  further,  and  great  as  was 
his  ill-humor,  he  would  not  trespass  on  his  fancy.  Instead 
of  doing  so,  he  seized  his  sword,  and  placing  himself  in  po 
sition,  called  on  Lanky  to  defend  himself.  Lanky  replied  by 
mentioning  his  master's  military  title,  with  an  '  Oh  ! '  before 
it ;  and  this  not  being  satisfactory,  the  Captain  lunged  furi 
ously  at  him,  and  several  times  grazed  the  unfortunate  Lanky, 
who  uttered  cries  of  despair  and  terror,  as  he  shrunk  and 
curled  himself  up  to  avoid  the  imminent  sword  point,  flashing 
like  a  fiery  serpent's  head  before  his  breast." 

Thus  far  the  author  of  the  MS. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  for  us,  in  explanation  of  Captain 
Ralph's  ill-humor,  to  do  more  than  refer  to  the  scene  between 
himself  and  Mr.  Hamilton,  narrated  in  former  pages  of  this 
history.  The  present  outburst  occurred  on  the  Monday  im 
mediately  following ;  and  in  it  the  Captain  poured  out  all 
the  wrath  which  had  been  slowly  gathering,  like  a  storm,  for 
fortj  -eight  hours. 

When  he  had  nearly  terrified  Lanky  out  of  his  wits,  he 
calmly  restored  his  sword  to  its  scabbard,  and  sat  down. 

"  Oh,  Cap'n,"  said  Lanky,  "  did  anybody  ever  see — " 

"  Basta  !  you  villain,  don't  appeal  to  me  1 " 

"  Oh,  Cap'n  1  » 


CAPTAIN    WATERS   WAS   CHALLENGED.  £39 

"  Off  with  you  1 — I'm  in  a  man-eating  humor.  Stay  it 
you  dare,  you  rascal,  and  I'll  fry  you  1  " 

"Fry  me?" 

"  Yes,  morbleu !  " 

Lanky  meditated  for  a  moment,  and  thought  how  Lo 
would  feel  if  this  terrible  threat  was  carried  into  effect.  The 
idea  was  disagreeable  in  the  highest  degree,  and  he  made  a 
step  towards  the  door. 

:<  Stay  !  "  thundered  the  Captain,  "  the  sight  of  that  pin 
knot  head,  you  Scaramouch,  keeps   me  from  having  a  fit  cf 
the  blue  devils." 

"  The  blue  devils,  Cap'n  ?  "  asked  Lanky,  pausing. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Are  you  subjic  to  'em  ?  " 

"  No,  you  rascal :  but  I  am  threatened  with  them.  One 
thing  consoles  me,  however:  threatened  men  live  long." 

Lanky  inclined  his  head,  in  token  of  acquiescence. 

"  Sim  Trabbles  said  he  was  goin'  to  cut  me  up  into  sos- 
bige  once,"  said  Lanky,  "  an'  I  aint  cut  up  yit." 

"  Well,  sir,  what  do  you  fancy  I  care  for  you  and  Mr. 
Trabbles  ?  Sink  Trabbles !  you  rascal  1  " 

"  Oh,  Cap'n  !  " 

"  Dance,  there  !  " 

"  Me  dance,  Cap'n  ?  " 

"  Yes,  this  moment." 

Lanky  looked  around,  groaning. 

"  They  aint  no  music.  Oh,  Cap'n,"  he  added,  "  what's 
the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  in  an  ill-humor,  you  Scaramouch — terribly  angry." 

"  Cap'n,"  observed  Lanky. 

"  Sir  ?  " 

"  What  is  a  Skarrymush  ? ' 

The  Captain  regarded  his  retainer  for  a  moment  with 
contemptuous  pity. 

"  Look  in  that  mirror,"  he  said. 

Lanky  obeyed. 

"Well,  sir?  "  said  Lanky. 

"  You  have  all  the  reply  I  deign  to  give  you  !  Now  take 
yourself  elsewhere,  you  gobemouche." 

"  Gobmush  !  "  cried  Lanky. 

The  Captain  aimed  at  him  with  a  volume  that  was  iying 


240  HOW    CAPTAIN    WATERS    WAS    CHALLENGED. 

on  the  table,  and  Lanky  took  to  his  heels,  and  disappeared, 
deeply  wounded  at  being  called  those  two  dreadful  names, 
ending  with  "mouche." 

Left  alone,  the  Captain  twirled  his  moustaches,  and  re 
lapsed  into  gloom  again.  It  was  a  splendid  day  of  May,  but 
the  Captain  did  not  see  the  sunlight ;  the  birds  sang  among 
the  forest  boughs — the  Captain  did  not  hear  them  :  the  river 
lapped  upon  the  shore,  the  white -capped  waves  laughing  for 
joy  :  the  Captain  did  not  heed  them.  For  the  worthy  fellow 
was  troubled  ;  he  had,  for  the  first  time,  found  opposed  to  him 
a  dangerous  rival ;  he  was  doubtful  what  course  to  pursue, 
for,  perhaps,  the  first  time  in  his  life — that  life  so  filled  with 
shocks,  and  blaring  trumpets,  and  quick  blows. 

He  remained  silent  and  motionless  for  half  an  hour  ' 
then  his  eye  suddenly  lighted  up.  and  rising  he  opened  a 
drawer,  took  out  pen,  ink  and  paper,  and  dipping  the  goose- 
quill  into  the  inkstand,  began  to  write,  in  large,  heavy  letters, 
and  with  great  rapidity. 

Let  us  look  over  his  shoulder :  these  words  appear  be 
neath  his  flying  pen : 

"  My  dear  Companion  : 

This  is  an  unhappy  world,  and  devious  are  the 
ways  thereof.  Man — especially  a  rude  fellow,  morbleu  ! — 
knows  not  what  to  do  often  ;  he  is  puzzled  ;  he  hesitates  and 
stands  still.  Do  you  ask  me  what  I  mean  by  this  small  mo 
ral  discourse  ?  Parbleu  !  I  mean  that  I  am  the  rude  fel 
low  and  the  puzzled  man. 

"If  you  were  an  ordinary  rival,  basta  !  there  would  be 
few  words.  I  would  solicit  the  honor  of  being  allowed  an 
opportunity  to  pink  you  ;  and  there  'twould  end.  I'd  go 
on  in  my  course  or  fall :  and  so  finish.  But  I  can't  well  run 
you  through.  Diable  !  I  should  say  not.  You  are  her  cou 
sin,  you  are  a  bon  compagnon,  you  smile  when  we  meet. 
See  the  difficulty. 

"  Ah  !  were  you  only  not  unfortunately  so  placed — for 
how  can  I  act  ?  I  put  it  to  you  as  a  man  of  sense  and  rea 
son,  is  there  any  opening  ?  Indicate  it,  my  dear  companion 
— zounds  !  the  sword  shall  not  touch  my  hand  unless  I  am 
compelled. 

"  See,   now,  I   am   a  rude  soldier,  a  mere  war  animal,  a 


HOW    CAPTAIN    WATERS   WAS    CHALLENGED.  £41 

fighting  hack,  or  if  not  a  hack  a  military  personage — 1  think 
I  can  venture  on  that  general  description.  Well,  now  what 
can  I  do  ?  I  beg  you,  mon  ami,  to  give  me  your  ideas  : — 
what  say  you  to  a  bargain  that  we  shall  see  the  charming 
mademoiselle  only  on  alternate  days  ?  to  avoid  collisions, 
you  observe.  These  little  matters  are  disagreeable,  and  of 
ten  end  in  an  appeal  to  the  toasting  iron,  inorbleu  ! 

"  For  me,  I  don't  conceal  the  fact  that  I  shall  prosecute 
the  war  with  vigor.  I  have  advanced  to  the  trenches,  and 
the  next  movement  will  be  to  hoist  the  ladders  :  then,  the 
trumpet  and  the  assault.  I  know  nothing  beyond  this — I'm 
a  mere  baby — tonnere  \  I  am  as  innocent  as  a  child.  There 
fore,  my  good  companion,  come  to  my  assistance.  We  are 
rivals — basta  !  don't  let  us  have  any  ambiguities,  or  conceal 
ments.  I  would  conquer,  I  would  see  you  defeated;  Voila 
tout  !  But  I  would  do  so  without  placing  myself  in  position 
—you  understand — I  am  tired  of  fighting  every  thing  out : 
I  am  becoming  decidedly  a  man  of  peace,  a  quiet  and  moral 
citizen — I  wish,  even,  as  you  may  understand,  to  become  a 
respectable  married  man. 

"  I  thought  the  chances  were  tolerable,  but  diable  !  I  find 
I  have  a  rival  whom  I  cannot  despise  if  I  would.  You  are  a 
good-looking,  gallant  fellow,  morbleu  !  and  just  the  man  to  in 
terest  a  woman,  as  a  friend  of  mine  observed  lately.  I  hon> 
estly  confess  that  I'm  afraid  of  you.  Observe  again !  You 
are  her  cousin ;  parlous  adds  companion :  yet  I  do  not  de 
spair. 

:  I  write  mis — which  I  send  by  Lanky,  simply  that  it 
may  not  resemble  an  invitation  to  the  duello- — I  write,  I  was 
going  on  to  say,  to  ask  you,  bon  ami,  ban.  compagnon,  how  we 
are  to  arrange  the  matter.  I'm  weary  of  cut !  thrust  I  and 
then  blood. 

"  Send  back  your  answer  by  the  Scaramouch  who  brings 
you  this  Toute  a  vous. 

"  RALPH  WATERS." 

Having  read  this  letter  over  hurriedly,  and  finding  it  ex 
press  his  ideas  with  tolerable  distinctness,  the  Captain  sum 
moned  Lanky,  who  made  his  appearance  with  an  air  of  dread 
ful  apprehension,  for  the  vision  of  himself  frying  had  pro 
duced  a  more  and  more  disagreeable  impression,  the  more  ho 


242  HOW    CAPTAIN    WATERS    WAS    CHALLENGED. 

thought  upon  the  subject.  He  was  much  relieved  to  find 
that  he  was  only  wanted  to  officiate  in  the  character  of  a 
messenger — not  at  an  auto  da  fe. 

"  Take  this  to  Effingham  Hall,  and  deliver  it  to  Mr.  Ef- 
fingham,"  he  said.  "  See  here  upon  the  back  '  Mr.  Effingham, 
Effingham  Hall.'  Then  wait  for  an  answer,  you  villain." 

Lanky  placed  the  letter  in  his  pouch,  put  on  his  hat,  and 
mounting  the  cart-horse,  set  off. 

The  Captain  sat  down  again,  listless,  and  venting  mor- 
bleus :  and  very  doubtful  whether  his  letter  would  answer  the 
desired  object. 

"  But  what  could  I  do  ! ):  he  said,  "  parbleu  !  I  am  check 
mated.  I  don't  want  to  fight  Effingham — I  don't  want  to 
have  any  further  altercation  with  one  related  to  Ma'mselle 
Henrietta ;  ah  !  but  I  wish  still  less  to  be  beaten.  Morbleu ! 
was  there  ever  such  an  unfortunate  event !  " 

And  the  Captain  relapsed  into  silence  and  thought. 

He  was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  hoofs,  and  looking  out 
saw  Lanky  dismounting.  Hours  had  passed  without  his  be 
ing  conscious  of  the  fact. 

"  Well,  well,  the  answer  ! "  he  cried  impatiently. 

"  Here  it  is,  sur,"  said  Lanky ;  and  drawing  forth  a  billet 
he  politely  presented  it  to  the  soldier.  Captain  Ralph  tore 
it  open  aiid  read : 

"SIR,— 

Your  letter  is  offensive — I  will  not  make  any  deroga 
tory  agreement  with  you,  sir.  I  would  rather  end  all  at 
once,  and  I  hereby  call  on  you  to  meet  me,  sir,  this  very  day 
at  the  Banks'  Cross-roads.  At  five  o'clock  this  evening,  I 
shall  await  you. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  sir, 

"  EFFINGHAM." 

The  Captain  stood  aghast — read  the  letter  over,  then 
crushing  it  in  his  hand,  fell  into  a  rage,  which  caused  Lanky 
the  most  dreadful  trepidation. 

"  Morbleu  !  "  cried  the  Captain,  "  fighting  is  his  forte,  is 
it ! — he  would  end  the  matter  so.  would  \e  !  Very  well,  we 
shall  see." 

And  seizing  his  sword  he  buckled  it  on,  and  ordered 


ON  THE   GROUND.  243 

Lanky,  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  to  saddle  his  horse.  Lanky 
obeyed,  trembling,  and  in  a  quartei  of  an  hour  Captain  Ralph 
was  on  his  way  to  Hamilton's,  where  he  expected  to  find  some 
second,  in  case  Mr.  Hamilton  was  engaged  to  act  for  Mr. 
Effingham. 


CHAPTER    XL 

OS  THE  GBOUND. 

THE  fox-hunter  displayed  the  most  unaffected  astonishment  at 
the  Captain's  communication,  and  would  at  once  have  revealed 
the  trick  he  had  played  ;  but  a  sight  of  the  letter  stopped 
him. 

After  reading  it  over  twice,  he  shook  his  head  mournful 
ly,  and  said  it  was  a  most  unhappy  affair — but  really,  he  did 
not  see  any  other  mode  of  settling  it.  Then  he  hastily  left 
the  room,  and  a  roar  of  laughter  succeeded  ;  immediately  af 
ter  which  Mr.  Hamilton's  voice  was  heard  reprimanding  the 
servant,  who  had  no  doubt  uttered  this  disrespectful  sound 
— in  a  tone  of  dignified  astonishment. 

Soon  afterwards,  dinner  was  announced,  and  Hamilton 
advised  his  friend  not  to  drink  much,  as  it  would  unsteady 
his  hand  in  the  coming  encounter. 

'  I  will  not  conceal  from  you,  Captain,"  he  said,  "  that  I 
think  it  will  be  a  mortal  duel.  Effingham  is  a  bitterly  pas 
sionate  man,  and  hates  you  profoundly.  Come  now,  my  dear 
fellow,  set  down  that  glass  of  claret." 

The  Captain  drank  it  off. 

"  Basta  !  I've  tried  all  sorts  of  fighting,"  he  said,  "  and 
there's  some  reason  in  what  you  say.  But  a  glass  of  claret  ? 
Morbleu !  I  believe  you  are  laughing." 

"  I  would  not  be  guilty  of  laughing,  at  such  a  crisis,"  said 
Hamilton,  "  when  one,  or  perhaps  two,  of  my  friends  are 
about  to  fall.' 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  Captain,  '  we  shall  see." 

And  he  remained  quite  composed  until  the  hour  of  half- 
past  four  had  arrived.  Having  the  duel  thus  forced  on  hijn, 
the  worthy  fellow's  mind  was  quite  at  ease.. 


244  ON   THE    GROUND. 

Hamilton  had  the  horses  brought,  and  the  two  men 
mounted. 

"  Banks'  Cross-roads  is  a  good  place  for  a  duel,"  saic 
Hamilton,  sighing. 

"  Ah  ?  "  said  the  Captain,  twirling  his  moustache. 

"  lies,  my  dear  fellow — yes,"  replied  Hamilton,  "  it  is  a 
most  eligible  position  to  fall  upon — gracefully,  you  know." 

"  I  hope  to  stand  up,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Well  well,  it  is  possible  you  may  not  be  killed,"  con 
tinued  his  companion,  with  great  commiseration  in  his  voice. 
"  Effingham  is  probably  out  of  practice,  and  you  stand  some 
chance." 

"  Some  chance  ?  I  ?  "  said  the  Captain,  "  why,  Hamil 
ton,  just  as  sure  as  you  sit  in  that  saddle,  I  shall  kill  or  dis 
arm  him.  Basta  !  he  has  forced  it  on  me  " 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  so  confident,"  said  Hamilton,  "  but  I 
think  it  my  duty  to  say  that  Effingharn  was  considered  one 
of  the  best  swordsmen  in  London." 

"  Was  he  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I'm  glad ;"  replied  the  Captain,  "  all  the  more  satis 
factory.  Let  us  get  on,  comrade  1  " 

And  putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  the  Captain  galloped  on 
ward  followed  by  Hamilton,  who  looked  at  bin* — when  their 
eyes  met — with  pitying  regard. 

They  reached  the  cross-roads  just  as  the  Captain's  re 
peater  indicated  the  hour  of  five. 

Mr.  William  Effingham,  with  his  friend  Thomas  Alston, 
Esq.,  was  standing  on  a  grassy  hillock  at  the  point  where  tho 
ways  meet. 

"  Well,  my  little  man,"  said  the  Captain,  goodnaturedly, 
"  did  your  brother  send  you  to  announce  his  coming  ?  " 

"  Did  you  address  me,  sir  ?  "  asked  Mr.  William  Effing 
ham,  arranging  his  diminutive  frill. 

"  Morbleu  ! — I  certainly  did,  petit  monsieur" 

"  Be  good  enough  to  allow  our  respective  seconds  to  ar 
range  the  preliminaries  of  the  combat,"  observed  Mr.  Effing 
ham,  with  an  important  air. 

"  Our  seconds  ! — the  combat ! — the  preliminaries  1 "  cried 
the  Captain.  "  Where  is  Mr.  Eninghani?" 

"  I  am  he,  sir." 


ON   THE   GROUND,  245 


"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  wrote  me  that  answer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  Captain  laid  back  on  his  horse  and  shook  with 
laughter.  Hamilton  echoed  it.  Master  Will  looked  hostile 
and  indignant. 

"  You  received  my  letter  1  "  cried  the  Captain. 

"  I  did,  sir." 

"  You  answered  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  replied  to  that  question  already,  sir  !  " 

"  Why,  it  was  directed  to  your  brother,  monsieur." 

"  It  was  directed  to  '  Mr.  Effingham,'  and  that  is  my 
name,  sir." 

"  Lanky  gave  it  to  you,  then  ?  "  said  the  Captain,  rolling 
about  with  laughter. 

"  He  sent  it  in  by  a  servant,  sir,  and  I  returned  my  reply 
through  the  same  channel." 

The  Captain  remained  silent  for  a  moment,  then  burst 
ing  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  louder  than  any  previous  roar, 
cried  : 

"  Well  !  mine  has  been  a  wild  life,  full  of  odd  adven 
tures,  but  it  was  left  for  this  day  to  bring  the  most  splendid 
comedy  to  light  I  ever  acted  in  1  Basta  1  Did  any  one 
ever  —  " 

"  Never  !  "  cried  Hamilton. 

"  And  you  were  ready  to  fight  me  with  that  huge  sword  !  " 
cried  the  Captain  to  Mr.  William  Effingham,  who  indeed  had 
buckled  around  his  waist  his  brother's  largest  rapier. 

"  I  was,  sir,"  he  said. 

"  And  on  what  quarrel  ?  " 

"  We  are  rivals,  sir,"  said  Will,  "  you  confess  it  in  your 
letter." 

"  Rivals  1  » 

"  Yes,  sir." 

'  How,  in  heaven's  name  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  ignorant,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  William  Effing 
ham,  with  lofty  dignity,  "  of  the  advances  you  have  made  ta 
my  cousin,  Miss  Catherine  Effingham.  I  have  not  been 
blind,  sir,  to  the  fact,  either  at  the  Hall  on  a  former  occa 
sion,  when  she  rode  behind  you,  or  at  Riverhead,  the  resi 


246  ON   THE   GROUND. 

dence  of  Mr.  Lee,  when  you  were  pleased  to  compliment  hef 
costume,  nor  last  Saturday,  sir,  when  she  hastened  to  you  as 
you  passed  upon  horseback,  near  our  party,  and  gave  her 
hand  to  you.  You  seem  to  be  about  to  deny  this,  sir :  it  is 
useless :  the  death  of  one  of  us  will  end  all.  Mr.  Alston 
will  arrange  the  terms  of  the  combat  with  Mr.  Hamilton." 

And  Mr.  William  Effingham  drew  himself  up  and  as 
sumed  an  air  of  noble  dignity. 

The  Captain  and  his  friend  had  nearly  expired  with 
pent-up  laughter  during  this  discourse.  But  the  soldier 
suppressed  his  agitation :  when  his  opponent  had  finished, 
he  replied  with  a  low  bow,  and  in  a  voice  of  respectful 
solemnity : 

"  I  beg  to  assure  you,  Mr.  Effingham,  that  your  sus 
picion  that  I  designed,  or  now  design,  paying  my  addresses 
to  your  beautiful  cousin,  Miss  JEffingham,  is  wholly  a  mis 
take.  Much  as  I  admire  that  fair  and  lovely  lady,  I  should 
never  place  myself  in  your  way." 

"  Hum  1 "  said  his  enemy. 

"  I  therefore  repeat,  and  here  declare  in  the  presence  of 
yourself,  of  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  of  your  friend,  Mr.  Alston, 
to  whom  I  beg  leave  to  present  the  assurance  of  my  highest 
regard,  and  most  distinguished  consideration — I  repeat,  I 
say,  in  the  presence  of  all  here  assembled,  that  I  renounce 
all  pretensions  to  the  hand  of  Miss  Effingham  from  this 
time  forth.  If  any  paper  is  necessary  to  be  signed,  I  will 
sign  it :  I  will,  "parole  d'honneur  !  morbleu  !  " 

And  Captain  Ralph  bowed  again,  stuffing  his  frill  into 
his  mouth. 

"  That  is  perfectly  satisfactory,  Captain  Waters,  and  I 
offer  you  my  friendship,"  said  Will,  brightening  up. 

"  I  accept  it  with  delight,"  said  the  Captain:  and  bend 
ing  down,  the  mortal  opponents  shook  hands. 

"  And  now  I  think  my  hoax  has  proceeded  far  enough," 
said  Hamilton,  laughing. 

"  Your  hoax  ?  "  said  his  friend. 

"  All  I  said  the  other  day,  returning  from  Riverhead, 
wap  a  pure  invention,"  said  honest  Jack,  laughing  triumph 
antly,  "  and  now,  my  dear  Don  Moustachio,  it  seems  to  me 
that  I  have  paid  you  for  all  your  practical  jokes  upon  my 
pelf,  at  a  blow," 


THE  READER  SHOtTLD  NOT  OMIT  READING.        247 

With  which  words  honest  Jack  Hamilton  laid  back  and 
shook  triumphantly. 

For  a  moment  the  Captain  looked  indignant :  then  his 
face  brightened :  then  he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  cried, 
holding  out  his  hand : 

"  Was  ever  such  a  villainous  plot  so  perfectly  successful ! 
Morbleu  !  Hamilton,  I  acknowledge  you  are  my  master  ! 
Any  feeling  of  spite,  man  compagnon,  is  lost,  parbleu  !  in 
admiration  of  your  strategy  !  " 

The  Captain  stopped  to  return,  with  great  respect,  the 
bows  of  Mr.  Effingham  and  Mr.  Alston,  who,  mounting  their 
horses,  rode  off  with  graceful  dignity. 

The  Captain  looked  after  them — waited  until  they  had 
disappeared,  and  then  burst  into  a  perfect  roar  of  morbleus, 
— laughter,  and  delighted  appreciation  of  the  whole  joke. 

"  Tonnere !  Hamilton,  you  are  a  great  genius !  "  he 
cried,  "  would  any  body  have  suspected  from  your  face,  on 
that  ride,  that  you  were  tricking  me  !  Morbleu,  mon  ami  ! 
I  consider  it  equal  to  any  thing  in  ancient  or  modern  his 
tory." 

Mr.  Hamilton  assumed  a  modest  and  deprecatory  ex 
pression. 

"  No — no,"  he  replied,  mildly. 

"  There  you  are  !  "  cried  the  Captain,  ({  your  face  is  like 
a  woman's,  when  she  says,  '  I  will  consider  your  proposal,  sir 
— la. '  Diable  !  let  us  start  equal  again  :  after  this,  war  to 
the  death  ! " 

And  the  Captain  rode  onward  with  his  companion,  toward 
the  Trap. 

"  To-morrow — well,  we  shall  see  1 "  he  muttered,  as  he 
rode  home  that  evening,  "  the  scaling  ladders  are  ready  1 " 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

W?IOH  THE  EEADEE  SHOULD  BY  NO  MEANS  OMIT  EEADDI&. 

"  THE  reader  will,  no  dou^t,  be  able  to  comprehend  without 
difficulty,  what  Captain  Ralph  meant  when  he  informed 
himself  confidentially  that  the  scaling  ladders  were  ready 


24S         >      TCti  TttE  READER  SHOULD  N0±  OMlt  READING. 

The  malicious  communication  of  the  Seigneur  Mort-Reynard 
had  made  him  feel  very  doubtful  whether  he  could  plant  the 
instruments  of  assault  securely:  he  looked  through  the 
Seigneur's  spectacles  and  saw  a  dangerous  enemy  upon  the 
citadel,  ready  to  pour  down  on  his  devoted  head,  fire  and 
boiling  oil,  and  all  deadly  implements  of  warfare. 

"  But  now  all  this  had  been  cleared  away — the  enemy 
had  turned  out  no  enemy  at  all :  and  that  was  the  explana 
tion  of  the  Captain's  speech. 

"  On  the  next  day,  he  donned  his  most  dangerous 
weapons,  and  cased  himself  in  his  most  war  proof  armor; 
then  with  trumpets  sounding,  and  banners  flying,  advanced 
to  the  assault." 

Thus  does  the  author  of  the  manuscript,  in  that  prac 
tical  style  of  which  he  is  so  fond,  chronicle  the  fact  that 
Captain  Ralph  Waters  set  out  for  Riverhead  with  the  in 
tention  of  making  a  matrimonial  demonstration.  We  sus 
pect  that  the  l<  dangerous  weapons  and  war-proof  armor,'- 
were  only  smiles  and  (hair)  powder,  and  moustaches  gallantly 
curled  :  that  the  "  trumpets  sounding,"  were  simply  the 
soldier's  habitual  ditty,  ending  in  "  ta,  la!  ta,  la  !  " — lastly, 
that  the  "banners  flying,"  'were  a  pure  figment  of  the 
author's  imagination. 

It  is  not  now  necessary  to  chronicle  the  details  of  the 
interview:  we  shall  more  directly  arrive  at  its  result  by 
looking  over  the  Captain's  shoulder  as  he  writes — having 
returned  in  the  afternoon  from  Riverhead,  with  an  expression 
of  countenance  far  from  downcast. 

Seated  at  the  rude  table  of  the  cottage,  and  making  a 
tremendous  scratching  with  his  pen,  which  he  handles  much 
after  the  fashion  of  a  sword,  the  soldier  writes  these  words : 
while  Lanky,  seated  in  a  corner,  his  day's  work  finished 
looks  on  admiringly. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  FRIEND  AND  COMPANION  : — 

"  Not  simply  '  sir,'  because  you  are  what  I  have 
written — friend,  companion.  Let  me  out  with  what  I  would 
write  at  once — and  in  the  best  manner  I  can  write  it,  being 
out  a  rude  soldier,  unused  to  handling  the  pen. 

"  With  great  respect,  dear  sir,  *nd  companion,  I  would 


WHICH  THE  READER  SHOULD  NOT  OMIT  READING.         249 

ask   permission    to   pay   my   addresses   to   your   charming 
daughter,  Henrietta. 

"  This  may  surprise  you,  and  " — the  Captain  earsed  a 
'  morbleu '  here — "  aiid  I  confess  you  have  some  reason :  but 
I  have  not  fought  all  those  battles.  G-latz  and  Lissa  and  the 
rest,  with  you,  and  found  no  enemy  myself,  but  a  courteous 
host,  Alas,  mon  ami ! — I  am  defeated  wholly :  can't  hold 
up  my  head,  and  come  to  you  and  say  I  am  conquered. 

"  Let  me  speak  of  myself  first — that,  it  seems  to  me,  is 
necessary,  being  almost  a  stranger  in  the  land.  You  know 
my  family — an  honest  one,  I  think,  at  least  I  am  accustomed 
to  regard  it  such.  I  am  not  ashamed,  rather  proud  of  it — 
thus  much  in  justice  to  myself. 

"  I  was  quite  young  when,  led  by  the  spirit  of  adventure 
which  God  plants  in  the  bosoms  of  the  youthful,  I  left  Vir 
ginia,  to  which  land,  through  all  my  wanderings,  my  heart 
turned  with  filial  devotion.  I  went  to  Europe.  I  entered 
his  Majesty's  service,  in  which  I  continued  until  the  peace 
of  Fontainbleau,  with  an  intermission  of  two  years — two 
years  which  now  live  in  my  memory  as  the  brightest  period 
of  a  rude,  wandering  life,  crammed  wifch  a  thousand  vicissi 
tudes,  a  host  of  emotions,  for  the  most  part  emotions  of  glad 
triumph  and  success. 

"  Those  two  years  saw  n:e  married  to  a  good  wife,  a  ten 
der  heart, — one  of  those  natures  which  God  sends  upon  thie 
earth  to  bless  the  lives  of  us  rude  soldiers  and  soften  them. 
I  had  the  unhappiness  to  lose  my  wife  ;  the  hand  of  Provi 
dence  took  her  from  me,  and,  to  my  great  regret,  I  had  nc 
children  to  remind  me  of  that  so  long-loved  companion.  Well 
well,  let  me  pass  on  :  that  wound  has  healed — or  nearly. 

"  I  plunged  into  war  again. — I  exhausted  its  delights, 
and  they  are  not  slight,  sir,  with  all  the  blood  and  wounds, 
and  suffering.  I  returned  hither  to  Virginia,  led  by  the 
never-dying  sentiment  of  love  of  country.  I  only  sojourned 
in  Europe  ;  this  was  my  home.  All  that  I  retained  of  those 
years  of  battles  and  marches,  and  countermarches,  was  the 
title  by  which  I  am  usually  addressed.  I  was  discharged. 
I  left  his  Majesty's  service,  which  I  heartily  rejoice  and  thank 
heaven  for,  the  great  Frederic  not  being  a  commander  to  my 
taste. 

"  Upon  her  death-bed,  my  wife, — whom  God  bless  and 


250        WHICH  THE  READER  SHOULD  NOT  C1HIT  READING. 

make  eternally  happy,  as  she  made  me  happy  in  this  life,  often 
pillowing  my  rude  head,  when  I  was  wounded,  on  her  bosom 
— my  wife  charged  me  to  marry  again,  saying,  that  marriage 
made  me  better,  curbing  my  natural  propensity  to  wander, 
and  making  a  quiet  citizen  of  me, — which  is  true  Ah  !  sir, 
she  was  a  good  wife  and  I  am  a  better  man,  for  that  brief 
dream  of  happiness.  Enough  ! 

"  In  relation  to  my  worldly  goods,  let  me  adopt  the  Euro 
pean  custom  and  omit  nothing.  I  am  not  poor,  thanks  to 
some  guilders  gathered  in  my  profession  and  what  my  wife 
left  to  me. 

"  I,  therefore,  ask  that  my  addresses  may  receive  your 
sanction  ;  I  am  convinced  your  daughter  does  not  regard  me 
with  indifference,  and  this  I  had  abundant  proof  of  on  this 
very  day.  Enough  of  that ;  but  this  I  add,  that  before  ad 
dressing  myself  to  you,  I  would  receive  no  avowal  from  Mad 
emoiselle  Henrietta,  binding  her.  I  trust  'tis  what  eve-ry 
honorable  man  would  do. 

"  You  have  it  all,  friend  and  companion ;  you  know  ma 
for  what  I  am, — a  rude  soldier,  but  a  loyal  man.     Speak. 
"  Always  your  friend, 

"  RALPH  WATERS." 

The  Captain  wrote  this  letter  without  thought,  as  he  would 
/have  spoken :  and  sealed  it  without  reading  it. 

He  then  summoned  Lanky,  and  placing  it  in  his  hands 
bade  that  unfortunate  messenger  deliver  it  to  none  but  Mr 
Lee  himself,  waiting  an  answer. 

Lanky  returned  in  three  hours. 

"  Well  ?  » 

"  Answer  to-morrow,  sir." 

«  Good !  " 

And  Captain  Ralph  sat  down  composedly,  and  leaning 
his  head  upon  his  hand,  seemed  to  be  thinking  of  some  old 
days, — upon  the  Rhine  it  seemed,  and  of  a  woman  ;  for  his 
lips  murmured  :  "  a  good  wife — God  take  her  to  himself !  " 

Early  on  the  next  day  a  servant  brought  a  letter,  which 
the  Captain  tore  open  at  once.  It  contained  these  words 
•imply  . 

"  I  accede  to  the  request  of  Captain  Waters.     I  know 


CAPT.  RALPH  AND  HENRIETTA  TOOK  A  DRIVE.  25 

him  for  a  brave  soldier,  and  a  most  honorable  man.     I  ask 
nothing  more.     The  rest  lies  with  my  daughter. 

WINSTONE  LEE." 

The  Captain  raised  his  head,  and  Lanky  started  back  «it 
the  radiant  expression  of  his  countenance. 

"  Oh  !  Cap'n  !  "  he  murmured. 

*'  Lanky,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  the  Captain, "  I  think  your 
chances  for  the  cottage  are  bad — very  bad." 

"  Oh  !  Cap'n  !  why  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  be  married  myself,"  said  the  soldier,  u  go 
and  saddle  my  horse  !  " 

And  Captain  Ralph  twirled  his  moustaches  with  a  look 
of  such  triumph  and  happiness  that  Lanky  was  consoled. 

His  master's  joy  was  his  own. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

HOW  CAPTAIN  RALPH  AND  HENRIETTA  TOOK  A  DRIVE  TOGETHER 
AND  WHAT  FOLLOWED. 

As  we  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to  relate  the  particu 
lars  of  the  Captain's  last  interview  with  Miss  Henrietta  Lee, 
so  we  shall  for  the  same  reason  omit  any  description  of  the 
final  and  decisive  assault,  to  adopt  the  phrase  of  the  author 
of  the  manuscript  from  which  these  events  are  taken. 

We  can  only  say  that  when  the  soldier  issued  forth  from 
the  mansion  of  Riverhead  his  countenance  was  more  radiant 
than  ever,  and  that  he  twirled  his  moustaches  toward  the  eye 
with  an  obstinate  vigor  which  caused  them  to  yield  in  spite 
of  themselves  and  assume  the  killing  air  in  absolute  perfection. 

On  the  very  next  day  the  gallant  Captain  might  have 
been  seen  again  before  the  door  of  Mr.  Lee's  mansion,  this 
time  seated  in  a  handsome  curricle  drawn  by  his  handsome 
roan.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  and  the  white  gravelled 
walk  glittered  in  the  sun,  the  firm  heel  of  the  soldier  clash 
ing  on  it,  as  with  jingling  spurs — his  old  habit  could  not 
yield  to  change — he  entered  the  wide  portal. 

Iu  half  an  hour  he  emerged  again,  and  this  time  with 


252  CAPT.  RALPH  AND  HENRIETTA  TOOK  A  t)RIVfi. 

Miss  Henrietta  on  his  arm.  That  young  lady  was  a;i  radiant 
as  the  morning : — her  eyes  shone  brilliantly,  and  her  rich 
dress  was  dimmed  by  the  bright  color  of  her  cheeks. 

The  Captain  assisted  her  into  the  vehicle,  followed,  and, 
gathering  up  the  reins,  set  forward  towards  the  cottage. 

For  some  time  they  rode  in  silence  :  nothing  was  said 
but  at  last  Captain  Ralph  shook  his  head  and  sighed. 

"  It  is  not  agreeable,"  he  said  ;  "  no,  it  is  repugnant." 

"  What  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  low  tone,  looking  inquiringly 
at  his  disconsolate  face. 

"  This  thing  of  taking  you  from  the  abode  of  wealth  and 
comfort — morbleu  !  from  the  bower  of  ease  and  elegance,  my 
dear  Miss  Henrietta,  to  the  humble  cottage  which  I — un 
happy  that  I  am  ! — inhabit." 

And  the  soldier  groaned. 

"  I  thought  we  had  dismissed  that  subject,"  she  said  i\ 
the  same  low  tone. 

"  Yes,"  said  Captain  Ealph,  sighing  again,  "  I  understand. 
You,  my  dear  wife  to  be,  are  one  of  those  noble  natures  who 
can  adapt  themselves  to  any  thing.  Yes,  I  fully  believed  you 
when  you  said  yester  ay  with  that  charming  sincerity  which, 
parbleu  !  is  the  most  graceful  and  delightful  trait  of  your  charm 
ing  and  admirable  character,  ma  chere,  when  you  said  you  would 
not  marry  for  mere  wealth :  and  if  the  man  of  your  choice 
had  it  not,  that  you  wwuld  forget  all  and  follow  him — to  the 
world's  end,  you  said  :  alas  1 " 

And  Captain  Ralph  uttered  a  groan  which  seemed  to  in 
dicate  an  overburdened  heart. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  I  understand  how  it  is  that  having 
cast  a  favorable  regard  upon  the  poor  soldier,  and  seen  that-, 
he  is  honest  and  loyal,  and  likely  to  be  faithful  for  ever  and 
the  day  after,  my  dear  Henrietta — I  can  understand  that  you 
with  your  grand  abnegation  of  self,  weighed  his  worldly  posi 
tion  as  nothing  :  which,  morbleu  !  is  oftenerdone  by  our  ho- 
aest  Virginia  girls  than  people  can  be  brought  to  admit.  I 
can  comprehend  all  that  •  but  the  fact  of  my  abject  poverty 
none  the  less  wounds  and  mortifies  me." 

With  which  words  the  lady's  companion  twirled  his 
moustache  forlornly. 

"  You  make  me  feel  badly  by  speaking  thus,"  said  Hen 
rietta,  turning  aside  her  head. 


RALPfi  AN:  HENRIETTA  TOOK  A  DRIVE.       253 

"  Badly  ?  " 

"  Indeed  you  do,"  she  murmured. 

"  I  am  sorry."  he  said,  crying ;  "  but  it  is  proper  for  me 
to  say  a  few  words  more,  ma  chfrre!  Do  you  see  that 
horse  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Does  he  look  human  ?"  continued  the  Captain,  discon 
lately. 

"  Human  ?  " 

"  Like  a  man,"  explained  the  soldier. 

The  lady  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Ah,  I  see,"  said  the  Captain,  "  you  don't  understand 
That  horse,  ina  chtre,  is  a  man." 

"  A  man  !  " 

"  Yes,  and  his  name  is  Von  der  Dank,"  said  the  Captain 
gravely. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Henrietta. 

w  Nothing  but  the  truth.  Does  he  not  belong  to  that 
respectable  merchant  of  Rotterdam,  and  am  I  not  in  fact 
driving  the  worthy  Von  der  Dank  in  harness  ?  'Tis  positive 
ly  unchristian." 

And  nettled  at  his  own  bad  feeling,  the  Captain  laid  the 
lash  across  the  representative  of  Mynheer  Von  der  Dank, 
who  tossed  his  head  and  flew  along  gallantly. 

"  Then  not  content  with  driving  Von  der  Dank,"  conti 
nued  the  soldier,  "  I  must  commit  the  further  impropriety 
of  running  the  pasha  Omer  at  the  races.  Selim,  my  dear 
Henrietta,  is  an  Arabian  whom  I  stole  in  the  Orient  from 
the  pasha — it  is  humiliating  to  confess  it :  but  there  should 
be  no  secrets  between  us." 

Henrietta  looked  at  her  companion  with  wide  eyes. 

"  True,  every  word  true,"  said  the  Captain,  sighing ; 
"  and  to  drive  Von  der  Dank  in  harness,  and  run  the  pasha 
Omer  for  the  amusement  of  a  crowd  of  Christian  dogs — as 
they  call  us — seems  to  me  nothing  less  than  sheep  stealing 
or  what  my  servant  Lanky  fancies  the  highest  disgrace — 
henroost  robbing." 

The  Captain's  head  drooped. 

"  You  are  jesting,"  murmured  Henrietta ;  "  surely — oh 
how  foolish  I  am  to  mind  you." 

"  Jesting  ?  I  wish  I  was  :  'tis  too  sad  a  subject  however 
And  that  is  not  all." 


5,64  CAPT.  RALPH  AND  HENRIETTA  tOOK  A  DRItl. 

"  Not  all  ?  " 

"  Do  you  see  that  necklace  around  your  neck  ?  But  of 
course  you  do." 

"  Yes,"  said  Henrietta,  scarcely  knowing  what  to  say. 

"  Well,  my  soul !  that  neck  ace  represents  Simpkins  & 
Co.,  of  the  port  of  New  York.  You  are  wearing  Simpkins 
around  your  neck — his  arms  encircle  you.  Just  think 
of  it ! " 

And  the  Captain  groaned  with  jealousy  and  mortifi 
cation. 

"  Don't  answer  me,"  he  continued,  "  my  feelings  are 
poignant  enough  already.  Let  us  get  on  to  my  hovel  which 
you  see  in  the  distance  yonder.  Von  der  Dank,  proceed  my 
friend  !  "  and  he  lashed  the  worthy  merchant ;  "  the  pasha 
awaits  you  in  the  stable,  and  you  carry,  in  addition  to  your 
master  and  his  bride,  the  firm  of  Simpkins — that  I  should  be 
alive  to  say  it !  " 

The  roan  seemed  to  be  very  well  content  with  his  enor 
mous  load,  and  the  bright  curricle  flashed  on  under  the  green 
boughs  and  through  the  sunlight :  and  ere  long  stopped  be 
fore  the  door  of  the  cottage. 

Lanky  stood  there,  louting  low,  his  cap  in  his  hand. 

The  Captain  assisted  Henrietta  out,  and  pointing  to 
Lanky,  who  was  holding  the  animal,  said : 

"  That,  my  dear  Henrietta,  is  the  gentleman  who  made 
my  fortune." 

"  Then  you  have  a  fortune  after  all,"  laughed  the  young 
girl,  good-hum oredly. 

"  No,  no,  I  mean  that  Lanky  was  the  means  of  my  win 
ning  you — my  pearl,  what  do  I  say  1  my  rose,  my  dia 
mond  ! " 

"  Pray  how  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  lover  of  Donsy." 

"  Donsy  ?  » 

"  Donsy  Smith." 

"  Indeed  ! " 

"  Yes,  yes."  said  the  Captain,  "  and  but  for  him  I  shoula 
have  laid  my  heart — perhaps,  who  knows  ? — at  that  charming 
voung  lady's  feet." 

"  Indeed  ! "  said  Henrietta  with  something  like  a  pout 


CAPT.  RALPH  AND  HENRIETTA  TOOK  A  DRIVE.  25& 

"  Yes,  verily  and  in  truth — tit  verite,  as  they  have  it  over 
yonder.  But  his  affections  having  been  engaged  by  the  said 
Donsy,  you  may  fancy  that  I  was  far  too  honorable  to  interfere. 
Honor  is  all  I  have  left  now,"  the  Captain  groaned. 

And  he  led  the  young  girl  into  the  rude  house. 

"  Look  around,"  he  said. 

Henrietta  obeyed. 

"  Is  it  not  humiliating  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"  Look  at  that  table." 

"  Yes." 

"  Contemplate  those  chairs." 

"  Well,"  repeated  Henrietta,  in  the  same  good-humored 
voice. 

"  Deign  to  survey  those  rafters,  from  which — heaven  pre 
serve  us  ! — dangle  strings  of  onions,  and  material,  unpoetical 
bacon  flitches." 

"  They  look  very  nice,"  said  Henrietta,  laughing. 

The  Captain  groaned. 

"  And  to  take  you  from  your  wealthy  and  elegant  abode 
to  such  a  hut,"  he  said. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  content,"  she  said,  cheerfully. 

"  A  lady  eat  onions  1 "  cried  the  Captain. 

"  I  did  not  promise  that,"  she  laughed. 

"  A  lady  partake  of  bacon  !  " 

"  I  believe  a  great  many  ladies  do  daily." 

"  A  lady  sit  upon  chairs  like  those  at  such  a  table  as 
that !  " 

"  They  are  very  nice  to  rest  in,  and  my  wrapping  is  very 
well  here,"  said  Henrietta,  sitting  down,  and  laying  her  Bilk 
pelisse  upon  the  rude  pine  table. 

The  Captain  shook  his  head,  sighing  piteously. 

"  That  is  all  affectation,  ma  chere,"  he  said,  forlornly. 

"  Indeed  'tis  not." 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"  I  am  perfectly  contented." 

"  With  your  future  abode  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said  simply. 

The  Captain  uttered  a  sigh. 

"It  wounds  me,"  he  said,  "to  the  very  heart  thus  to 
drag  down  the  star  of  my  life.  But  how  can  I  help  it  ?  " 


256  CAFT.  RALPH  AND  HENRIETTA  TOOK  A  DRIVE. 

"  I  am  glad  I  am  a  star,"  said  Henrietta,  smiling,  "  but  1 
do  not  feel  as  if  I  were  dragged  down." 

"  All  devotion — grandeur :  it  springs  from  your  woman'* 
nature.  Just  look  around — just  look  at  that  pine  knot  i  < 
the  door." 

"Pine  knot?" 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  at  my  scaramouch — at  Lanky." 

She  laughed. 

"  This  is  your  future  mistress,  Lanky,"  said  the  Captaii 

The  pine  knot  louted  low. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Lanky,  and  to  make  you* 
acquaintance,"  said  Henrietta,  holding  out  her  hand,  with  & 
charming  smile. 

Lanky  colored,  and  did  not  dare  to  take  the  hand. 

"  Won't  you  shake  hands  ?  "  said  Henrietta,  smiling. 

Lanky  trembled  and  approached. 

"  Oh,  ma'am  !  "  he  said. 

And  he  found  his  huge  paw  inclosed  in  a  soft  white  hand, 
like  velvet,  which  pressed  it  kindly. 

Lanky  disappeared,  staggering  with  delight. 

"  Look  at  him !  "  sighed  the  Captain ;  "  see  the  differ 
ence  between  that  ridiculous  country  bumpkin,  in  his  striped 
stockings  and  fustian  waistcoat,  and  the  well-fed  butler  you 
are  accustomed  to  see,  Henrietta." 

"  I  like  Lanky  the  best,"  she  said,  smiling  ;  "  he  seems 
very  honest." 

"  Yes,  yes,  a  ban  gargon,  and  would  die  for  me." 

"  Then,"  said  Henrietta,  simply,  "  I  shall  like  him  more 
than  ever." 

The  Captain's  martial  face  was  illuminated  with  a  look 
of  pride  and  happiness  which  changed  it  instantly,  and  made 
it  radiant. 

"  Morbleu  !  Henrietta,"  he  cried,  "  you  are  the  pearl  of 
your  sex,  the  queen  of  the  heart,  as  you  are  the  queen  of 
beauty  !  And  can  you  consent  to  leave  your  father's  house, 
with  all  its  elegance,  its  comfort,  its  quiet  pleasure  and  soft 
repose,  to  become  the  inmate  of  this  cabin,  the  wife  of  the 
rude  soldier  who  stands  before  you  ?  Can  you  bid  adieu  to 
every  brilliant  scene,  to  all  your  past  life,  spent  in  the  midst 
of  so  much  ease,  even  splendor,  to  light  up  my  poor  hut  with 
your  smiles — my  life  with  your  fair  and  beautiful  eyes? 


OAPT.  RALPH  AND  HENRIETTA  TOOK  A  DRIVE.  257 

Can  you  consent  to  take  a  poor  soldier,  a  rough  adventurer, 
a  common  fellow,  with  nothing  but  a  loyal  heart  ?  " 

She  murmured,  "  Yes." 

"  You  cannot  leave  that  position  without  »  struggle, 
however,"  he  continued.  "  Does  it  not  rend  your  heart  tc 
descend  so  low — to  leave  Riverhead  for  this  cottage — to 
become  the  mistress  of  a  hovel  ?  Can  you  look  with  equa 
nimity  upon  a  future  where  no  sun  shines,  where  you  must 
contend  with  common,  coarse,  material  obstacles-— v/ith  vulgar 
want,  and  struggle  on  without  casting  a  singk  longing  look 
back  on  your  past  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  in  his,  '*  I  have  you," 

"  Shall  I  put  the  roan  up,  sir?  "  said  Lanky,  appearing  at 
the  door. 

"  No,"  sighed  the  Captain,  relapsing  into  gloom ;  "  wo 
will  return." 

And  offering  his  arm  to  Henrietta,  he  passed  through 
the  door,  and  slowly  assisted  her  into  the  vehicle  again, 
sighing. 

"  Suppose  we  take  a  short  driire  befoie  returning,"  ho 
said. 

She  nodded  good-humoredly. 

The  Captain  only  groaned  in  reply,  and  lashed  his  horse, 
who  set  off  like  lightning  upon  the  smooth  road  leading  up 
the  river. 

"  Your  gloom  distresses  roc,"  said  Henrietta,  in  a  low 
voice;  "for  heaven's  sake  forget  these  mere  worldly  circum 
stances  ;  they  do  not  affect  me  for  a  moment.  I  would  not 
have  given  my  hand  to  the  richest  gentleman  in  the  land  for 
his  riches  only.  Why  should  I  estimate  what  I  do  not  value 
so  highly  ?  Look  at  the  sunlight,  and  hear  the  birds  singing. 
We  enjoy  them  as  much  as  though  we  were  a  king  and 
queen ;  and  I  think  the  river  singing  down  upon  the  shore 
is  happiness  enough  !  " 

And  she  looked  as  perfectly  happy  and  contented  as  it  is 
possible  to  conceive. 

The  Captain  only  sighed,  and  shook  his  head,  mur 
muring  : 

"  You  are  a  noble  heart." 

"  Indeed  I'm  not,1'  she  replied,  cheerfully,  "  but  I  am  fw 


258  CAPT.  RALPH  AND  HENRIETTA  TOOK  A  DRIVE. 

more  than  contented.  And,  besides,  father  will  not  let  ua 
want  any  thing — you  forget  that." 

"  Oh  !  "  groaned  the  Captain,  "  that  is  too  humiliating  ! 
A  strong-armed  soldier  like  me  marrying  for  money  !  Do 
not  speak  of  it,  Henrietta — it  is  dreadful.  I  did  not  seek 
your  money — if  you  have  any  of  that  disagreeable  com 
modity — the  Shakespearian  word,  I  believe.  I  hate  and 
despise  what  is  vulgarly  called  cash  1 " 

And  in  the  excess  of  his  wrath  at  finding  that  hia  future 
wiffe  would  probably  have  a  large  fortune  on  her  marriage,  the 
Captain  lashed  the  roan  until  that  unfortunate  animal  fairly 
flew. 

"  Let  us  not  speak  further  on  this  subject,"  he  added ; 
"  let  us  enjoy  the  landscape.  See  the  river — see  those  noble 
mansions  crowning  the  fine  hills.  Parbleu !  the  goods  of 
this  wicked  world — particularly  of  that  wickedest  portion, 
Virginia — are  not  equally  divided.  Now  it  seems  to  me 
that  I  ought  to  have  one  of  those  fine  houses.  Society  owes 
me  a  house  and  plantation.  I  will  establish  a  school  of 
politics  with  that  cardinal  principle.  I  will  become  agrarian. 
I  want  land." 

Henrietta  smiled. 

"  We  can  do  very  well  without  it,"  she  said. 

"  Contemplate  the  fine  old  houses,"  continued  the  Cap 
tain,  sighing ;  "  look  at  the  smiling  fields — I  covet  thos« 
fields,  I  break  the  tenth  commandment  horribly,  morbleu  1 ' 

"  The  whole  ?  "  asked  Henrietta,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"  Do  you  covet  your  neighbor's  Tife  ?  "  she  laughed. 

The  Captain  smiled  sadly. 

"  No,  no ;  I  believe  you  have  me  there."  he  said ;  "  1 
don't  want  any  wife  but  the  one  who  will  soon  be  mine 
legally,  and  I  may  add,  equitably — in  fee-simple." 

And  having  made  this  great  display  of  legal  knowledge, 
the  Captain  stopped  sighing. 

"  See  what  a  fine  house  across  the  river,"  he  added. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  think  Mr.  Wilt's,  here,  is  far  prettier." 

"  No,  no." 

"  Indeed,  I  think  it  is." 

"  Well,  I  have  a  moment's  business  with  that  gentleman 
Will  you  go  in  ?  " 


OAPT.  RALPH  AMD  HENRIETTA  TOOK  A  DRIVE.  259 

"  Oh  yes." 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  was  passed  over,  and  the  vehicle 
stopped  at  the  door  of  one  of  those  fine  old  mansions  we 
have  heard  the  Captain  covet.  It  fairly  smiled  in  the  bright 
May  sunlight,  with  its  gables,  dormer  windows,  and  old 
trees. 

An  aged  negro  came  to  the  door,  and  held  the  horse  re 
spectfully  for  the  soldier.  He  assisted  Henrietta  out,  and 
they  entered. 

"  Why,  they  have  new  furniture,"  she  said  :  "  I  know  all 
about '  Flodden,'  and  it  looks  very  much  changed." 

"  Ah ! " 

"  Yes  indeed  !  how  strange  1  but  how  handsome  it  is." 

They  went  into  the  parlor,  and  the  well-fed  butler  stood 
bowing. 

"  James,"  said  Henrietta ;  but  stopping,  she  added, 
"  why,  it  is  not  James  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Thomas,  madam,"  said  the  courteous  black 
gentleman,  not  seeing  the  Captain's  signals  of  wrath. 

"  Thomas  !  why  where  is  old  James  ?  " 

"  He  went  away,  they  tell  me,  ma'am,  with  Squire  Wilts." 

"  Went  away  1 " 

"  The  squire  done  moved  to  his  t'other  house  up  the  riv 
er,  ma'ain,  and  master  there  done  bought  the  place — '  Flod- 
ing '  I  b'lieve  they  calls  it/' 

Suddenly  Thomas  started  and  shook  :  he  saw  the  wrath 
ful  eyes  of  the  soldier  on  him. 

Henrietta  could  say  nothing ;  the  whole  flashed  on  her ; 
she  only  looked  in  silence  at  the  Captain. 

"  Yes,  my  dearest  Henrietta,"  said  that  gentleman,  "  I  un 
derstand  what  you  would  say.  You  mean  that  I  have  de 
ceived  you — and,  morbleu  !  you  are  perfectly  right.  But 
ah  !  I  could  not  deny  myself  that  scene  at  the  cottage — I 
could  not  oinit  such  pleasure.  It  was  not  to  try  you.  Oh 
no  !  parole  d'honneur  !  I  felt  that  useless.  But  in  this 
world  we  cannot  get  too  much  happiness,  and  in  your  devotion 
to  your  rude  soldier,  there  was  such  happiness  as  he  has  sel 
dom  experienced  in  this  wicked  world. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  Captain,  "  '  Flodden '  is  my  home 
now,  the  squire  having  disposed  of  it  privately  to  me,  taking 
in  exchange  for  it  some  twelve  thousand  pounds  I  had  lying 


260          MR.    EFFINGHAM    STARTS    WITH    ASTON. SHMENT.' 

idle.  Let  me  embrace  the  opportunity  further  to  assure  you 
ma  ckere,  that  Van  der  Dank,  the  pasha,  and  the  Mew- York 
firm,  are  all  honestly  paid — the  animals  aro  mine,  the  brace 
let  yours.  We  have  enough,  thank  Heaven,  to  live  quietly 
upon,  and  you  will  not  be  compelled,  my  dearest  Henrietta, 
to  descend  as  low  as  onions." 

With  which  words  the  Captain,  laughing,  full  of  prido 
and  delight,  smoothed  softly  the  head  that  lay  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  Now  we  shall  return  in  a  different  manner,"  he  said ; 
and  he  gave  an  order  to  the  butler. 

That  gentleman  bowed  low  and  vanished. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards,  a  magnificent  chariot 
drove  up  to  the  door,  drawn  by  four  horses,  whose  bright 
coats  and  resetted  heads  shone  in  the  merry  sunlight. 

The  Captain  led  the  young  girl  forth,  and  assisted  her 
into  the  coach  :  then  followed.  The  courteous  black  butler 
bowed — the  old  superannuated  hostler  smiled;  for  he  liked 
the  frank  face  of  the  soldier  ; — and  the  vehicle  set  off  at  a 
gallop.  Captain  Ralph  was  partial  to  rapid  motion. 

They  did  not  speak  for  some  moments ;  then  the  soldier 


"  But  how  are  you  pleased  with  your  house,  ma  che're  ?  " 
"  Very  much,"  she  said,  smiling  j  "  but  I  like  the  cottage 

and  Lanky  best,  I  think  !  " 

Which  caused  the  Captain  to  burst  into  laughter.    In  two 

hours  they  reached  '  Riverhead.' 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

IN  WHICH  MB.  EFFENGHAM  8TABT8  WITH  ASTONISHMENT. 

'  MY  goodness !  "  said  Kate. 

Will  looked  dignified. 

"  Did  you  really  now  ?  "  continued  the  mistress  of  his 
heart. 

"  Yes,madam,"  replied  Will. 

"  Who  would  have  thought  of  such  a  thing  but  you  I  Gra 
cious  !  it  almost  takes  my  breath  away  to  think  of  it  1  " 

And  Kate  placed  her  hand  upon  her  breast  and  gasped, 


MR.    EFFINGHAM    STARTS    WITH    ASTONISHMENT.  261 

and  panted  in  a  manner  which  was  delightful  to  behold ;  hei 
eyes  dancing  all  the  while,  her  utterance  struggling  with 
pent-up  laughter. 

Miss  Kate  Effingham,  and  Mr.,  otherwise  Captain  Wil 
liam  Effingham,  patriotic  leader  of  the  Cornstalk  regiment 
of  Virginia  Volunteers,  exchanged  these  observations  on  the 
day  after  the  scene  at  the  Cross  Roads.  Kate  was  sitting 
at  the  harpsichord  whereon  she  had  been  playing ;  Master 
Willie  was  perched  upon  the  table,  from  which  he  dangled 
his  dignified  legs,  clad  in  their  silk  stockings  and  pumps 
which  latter  were  ornamented  with  huge  rosettes  and  silver 
buckles. 

Kate's  hair  flowed  on  her  shoulders,  which  were  bare, 
and  from  time  to  time  she  removed  it  from  her  rosy  cheeks, 
and  placed  it  behind  her  ears  ;  her  white  arms  were  bare  to 
the  shoulder  nearly :  she  was  clad  in  intense  pink,  and  wore 
golden  clocks.  She  had  been  singing  a  song  of  which  the 
following  is  a  specimen,  as  nearly  accurate  as  possible : 

"  'Tis  in  the  field  the  farmer  goes, 
And  there  his  seed  the  farmer  sows, 
But  you  nor  I  nor  nobody  knows 
How  oats,  peas,  beans,  or  barley  grows  :" 

and  during  this  pleasant  ditty,  Master  Will  had  been  kick 
ing  his  heels  to  keep  the  time. 

He  had  then  startled  Kate,  by  relating  his  abortive  at 
tempt  to  murder  his  rival,  and  thus  the  exclamation,  "  My 
goodness  !  "  and  the  further  observation,  "  gracious  1 "  had 
been  produced.  After  this  accurate  and  detailed  description 
of  the  circumstances  of  the  interview,  we  may  proceed  to 
hear  what  the  devoted  lovers  are  saying. 

"  I'm  sorry  it  takes  your  breath  away  to  think  of  it," 
said  Will,  with  dignity ;  "  but  that's  the  way  you  always  treat 
me.  I  never  can  please  you  : — here  I  am  running  my  life 
into  danger  for  you,  and  you  only  laugh  at  me." 

"  Goodness  gracious !  "  cried  Kate,  "  I  didn't." 

"  You  did." 

"  Very  well,  sir,  Tommy  Alston  never  contradicts  me." 

"  There,  you  are  going  to  drive  me  distracted  with  that 
gawky  Alston." 

"  Gawky  1  hum  1  » 


262         MR.    EFF1NGHAM    STARTS    WITH    ASTONISHMENT 

And  Kate  pouted. 

"  You  know  he  is  !  " 

"  He  is'nt  a  bit." 

"  Now  you  are  contradicting  me,"  observed  Will,  with 
great  good  sense 

"  Well,  you  deserve  it :  you  know  you  do.  Tommy  was 
a  great  deal  more  attentive  to  me  at  the  picnic  than  you  • 
and  you  would  have  let  Jim  Crow  take  my  candy — but  'it 
wouldn't.'' 

Will  felt  that  this  charge  was  unjust,  and,  not  being  able 
to  contradict  Kate,  determined  to  go  and  challenge  Mr.  Al 
ston  immediately.  He  rose  for  that  purpose. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  said  Kate. 

"  I  am  going  to  make  your  Mr.  Alston  give  me  satisfac 
tion." 

"  Satisfaction  !     Oh  mo  I" 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"To  fight?" 

"  Immediately." 

And  Will  made  a  motion  to  go. 

"  Oh  Willie  1  "  cried  Kate,  holding  him  back. 

"Before  night  one  of  us  shall  sleep  in  death  1"  cried 
Willie,  looking  concentrated  daggers. 

Kate  uttered  a  scream. 

"  Willie,  you  frighten  me  to  death  !  "  she  cried,  "  I  was 
only  joking.  You  were  very  good  to  me  at  the  picnic  ;  and 
I  didn't  mind  that  foolish  little  fellow,  Jim.  Didn't  he  turn 
funny  summersets  ?  My  gracious  !  just  to  think  of  him 
makes  me  die  o'  laughing." 

And  Kate  burst  into  such  a  ringing  peal  of  laughter  that 
Willie's  hostile  ideas  disappeared  like  mist  before  the  sun. 

•'  What  a  fine  time  we  had  !  "  said  Kate,  struggling  not 
to  laugh  all  her  words  into  stammerings  ;  "  only  think  of  the 
drummer,  too  !  and  Johnny  Booker,  from  the  Bowling  Green, 
and  the  way  Jim  Crow  ate  that  pie  1  " 

"  It  was  splendid  1  "  said  Will,  whose  spirits  were  re 
stored  completely. 

"And  it  wasn't  far  from  where  you  were  going  to  fight 
that  ridiculous  duel,"  observed 

Will's  face  clouded, 

"  Ridiculous  ?  " 


MR.    EFFINGHAM    STARTS    WITH    ASTONISHMENT.          265 

"  Yes  :  did  any  body  ever  hear  the  like  ?  Of  course, 
I'm  flattered,  and  all  for  your  doing  it  for  me  ;  but  to  think 
Captain  Waters  was  courting  me.  It  was  too  funny." 

"  Funny  !"  said  Will,  with  dignity  ;  "  Mr.  Waters  did 
not  think  so,  madam.  He  formally  renounced  all  claims 
to  your  hand." 

"  He  was  laughing  at  you." 

"  Laughing  !  laugLing  !  laughing  !  "  cried  Will,  with 
increased  indignation,  "  he  shall  explain  !  " 

And  he  would  have  rushed  forth. 

"Oh,  Willie!  Willie!"  cried  Kate  in  despair,  and 
holding  him  tight ;  "  you  will  kill  me :  I  am  very  nervous 
and  sensitive." 

"fLaughing  1 " 

And  Willie  struggled. 

"  Oh  no  !  he  couldn't  have  laughed  at  you,"  said  Kate, 
"  for  he  is  a  very  good-humored  gentleman,  and  he  must 
have  felt  that  you  were  doing  a  brave  action,  Willie.  Come 
now,  let  us  make  friends." 

Will  shook  his  head. 

"  Oh  Willie  ! "  pleaded  Kate,  "  to  refuse  me  who — who 
— love  you  so  much  ! " 

And  Kate  slew  him  with  her  eyes. 

Will  still  hesitated. 

"  You  say  you  love  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  so  much !  " 

"  How  will  you  prove  it  ?  " 

"  By  any  thing  you  ask." 

Will  looked  triumphant,  and  drew  from  his  breast  thv 
true-love  indenture,  which  he  unrolled.  At  sight  of  it,  Kate 
drew  back,  laughing. 

"  You  said  you'd  do  any  thing,"  said  Will. 

"  Oh  !  not  that  1 " 

"  There  is  a  pen  on  the  table;  now,  Kate,  keep  your 
promise." 

"  Oh  !  I  cannot !  "  Kate  cried,  laughing,  and  wringing 
her  hands,  and  assuming  an  air  as  of  one  about  to  cry. 

Will  moved  toward  the  door. 

"  Oh  !  you  are  going  to  fight  a  duel,"  said  Kate  ;  "  it 
is  my  duty  to  prevent  bloodshed  ! " 

And,  seizing  the  pen,  she  affixed  the  words  "  Ka*.e  Ef 


264          MR.    EFFINttfiAM    STARTS    WITH   ASTONISHMENT. 

fingham  "  to  the  flower- and  heart-ornamented  love  indenture. 
"There!"  she  said,  throwing  down  the  pen,  "will  that 
satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  That  is  sufficient !  "  said  Will ;  "  now  for  one  kiss  !  " 

"  One  kiss,  sir  ?  " 

"  It  is  habitual,"  said  Will,  with  dignity ;  "  engaged 
people  always  kiss." 

And  he  opened  his  arms  to  clasp  his  mistress  to  his 
heart.  The  fair  Chloe  fled,  however,  from  the  outstretched 
arms,  and  they  closed  on  air. 

In  running  out,  Kate  struck  against  Mr.  Hamilton,  who 
was  coming  in ;  whereupon  Willie  assumed  an  expression  of 
dignity,  and  rolling  up  his  indenture,  was  content. 

Kate,  however,  distrusted  this  dignified  deportment, 
and,  bidding  Mr.  Hamilton  a  laughing  good-morning,  con 
tinued  her  flight  some  way  upon  the  lawn,  her  hair  stream 
ing,  her  feet  tripping  merrily. 

She  paused  finally  under  an  oak,  and  looked  back ;  Will 
was  not  pursuing ;  and,  satisfied  upon  this  point,  she  began 
singing,  and  so  wandered  on  until  she  reached  a  sort  of 
summer-house  in  the  dell,  a  favorite  resort  of  Mr.  Effingham. 

She  found  him  there  now,  reading,  his  brow  resting  on 
his  hand,  the  flowering  vines  falling  around  him  as  he  half 
reclined  upon  the  trellis  work. 

Kate  stole  behind  him,  and  before  he  knew  it  leaned  her 
head  upon  his  shoulder,  and  uttered  a  little,  quiet  laugh. 

The  pale  face  was  raised  from  the  volume,  and,  leaning 
his  head  upon  that  of  the  child,  his  old  pensive  smile  came 
to  his  lips. 

"  What  are  you  reading,  cousin  ?  "  asked  Kate 

"  The  writings  of  Steele,"  he  said  ;  "  and  now  I  suppose 
you  are  quite  as  much  in  the  dark  as  ever." 

"  Oh  no  !    I  read  once  a  very  pretty  piece  he  wrote." 

"  What  was  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  but  it  is  in  the  other  volume :  where  he 
tells  how  he  cried  when  his  father,  I  believe  it  was,  died, 
and  had  a  battledore ;  and  his  mother  was  crying,  too,  I 
think.  Poor  fellow  !  " 

Mr.  Effingham  smiled. 

"  I  Delieve  these  children  criticise  better  than  we  men 


DIAGNOSIS  AND  TREATMENT  OF  DR.  MORT-IlEYNARD.       265 

do,"  he  murmured  ;    "  but,   Kate,"   he  continued,    "  don't 
you  like  his  merry  pieces  better  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  do  ;  but  you  know  I  don't  know  any  thing 
about  London,  or  any  cities." 

"  I  am  glad  you  do  not ;  you  shall  grow  up  a  pretty  lit 
tle  flower  of  the  woods." 

"  Thankee ;  I'm  not  a  weed,  I'd  have  you  to  know 
cousin  Champ." 

"  The  lily  of  the  valley  and  the  violet  are  not  weeds,' 
he  said,  musing,  as  he  looked  at  the  bright  face. 

"  Oh  please,  come,  gather  some  violets  with  me  ?  '*  said 
Kate. 

"  Oh  certainly,"  he  said,  smiling,  and  the  man  and  the 
child  were  soon  bending  down  over  the  grassy  banks  of  the 
stream  for  all  sorts  of  flowers.  They  spent  half  an  hour  in 
this  occupation,  and  then  slowly  returned  to  the  Hall,  which 
was  hidden  from  the  summer-house  by  a  clump  of  trees. 

Kate  ran  in,  crying  out,  and  admiring  her  nosegay.  Mr. 
Effingham  followed. 

He  did  not  see  a  horse  tied  near  the  gate :  he  did  not 
observe  a  hat  in  the  hall  of  the  mansion. 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  library,  and  witnessed  a  spec 
tacle  which  made  him  start.  It  is  necessary  that  even  the 
chronicle  should  pause  before  proceeding  to  describe  the 
enormity.  Let  us  commence  a  new  chapter. 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 

DIAGNOSIS  AND  TREATMENT  OF  DR.  MORT-REYNARD. 

MR  EFFINGHAM  beheld  the  Seigneur  Mort-Reynard,  other 
wise  Mr.  John  Hamilton,  that  incorrigible  bachelor,  fox- 
hunter,  and  rival,  in  the  act  of  impressing  a  chaste  salute 
upon  the  lips  of  Miss  Alethea  ! 

So  far  from  betraying  any  astonishment  or  indignation  at 
this  outrageous  proceeding,  the  stately  Miss  Alethea,  serene 
and  shining  in  black  silk,  appeared  to  regard  it  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  submitted  to  it  with  an  equanimity  which  was 
refreshing  to  behold.  She  betrayed  some  embarrassment 


266      DIAGNOSIS  AND  TREATMENT  OF  DR.  MORT-REYNARD. 

upon  Mr.  Effingham's  sudden  entrance,  and  a  slight  coloi 
came  to  her  cheeks ;  but  that  was  all. 

Not.  so  Mr.  Jack  Hamilton.  That  gentleman  presented 
the  painful  spectacle  of  a  man  caught  in  the  act  of  filching  a 
sheep  from  its  rightful  owner :  he  avoided  Mr.  Effingham's 
eje :  he  drew  back  from  Miss  Alethea  :  he  considered  the 
feasibility  of  disappearing  up  the  chimney,  or  through  the 
window  at  a  bound. 

At  last  he  seemed  suddenly  to  recover  his  powers  of  lo 
comotion:  he  stammered  some  hasty  words,  and  bursting 
into  a  roar  of  laughter,  thrust  a  letter  into  Miss  Alethea's 
hands,  and  took  to  flight.  In  ten  minutes  he  was  seen  gal 
loping  away  like  a  deserter. 

Mr.  Effingham,  with  flushed  face,  and  haughty  looks, 
stood  silently  gazing  at  Miss  Alethea. 

"  Yon  needn't  show  such  great  astonishment,  Champ," 
said  Miss  Alethea,  calmly  smoothing  her  hair,  which,  we 
regret  to  say,  was  somewhat  disordered,  ':  Mr.  Hamilton  and 
myself  have  been  engaged  for  half  a  year.  I  suppose  there 
is  something  for  you  in  this  letter :  it  is  directed  to  you. 
How  foolish  in  Mr.  Hamilton  to  be  running  away  so :  he  is 
incorrigible.  Well,  there  is  the  letter :  I  must  go  now  and 
attend  to  my  housekeeping." 

With  which  words  Miss  Alethea  sailed  slowly  out,  her 
black  silk  rustling:  Mr.  Effingham  standing  perfectly  mo 
tionless  in  the  middle  of  the  floor — the  letter  lying  on  the 
table. 

"  Engaged  for  half  a  year  1  "  he  said,  as  in  a  dream, 
"engaged!  Alethea  1  Hamilton!" 

His  eye  fell  on  the  letter,  and  he  tore  it  open  and  read 
it  like  lightning — his  brow  flushing,  now  with  anger,  then 
pleasure,  then  this  latter  expression  chased  away  the  former, 
and  his  face  was  radiant.  He  dropped  the  letter  and  uttered 
a  sigh,  which  seemed  to  remove  instantly  a  mountain  from 
his  breast. 

The  letter  was  in  these  words : 

"  MY  DEAR  CHAMP  : 

"  I  know  what  I  have  done  is  disgraceful,  and  hor 
rible,  and  awful,  and  all  that — but  it  was  meant  well,  and  I 
don't  care  what  you  may  say ;  it  has  succeeded.  The  time 


DIAGNOSIS  AND  TREATMENT  OF  DR.  M   RT-REYNARD.       20* 

to  acknowledge  the  trick  is  come,  and  here  goes.     It  went 
this  way : 

"  I  saw  you  come  back  from  Europe  completely  knocked 
up — worried  out,  as  you  said,  and  you  will  remember  that 
I  announced  my  intention  to  become  physician  in  ordinary 
to  you,  the  very  first  time  I  saw  you.  You  thought  the  fox 
hunt  was  all — I  know  you  did,  and  you  are  one  more  added 
to  the  list  of  those  people,  by  George  !  who  give  Jack  Ham 
ilton  credit  for  only  about  as  much  sense  as  a  man  could 
put  into  the  left  eye  of  a  sparrow.  No,  sir !  I'm  deep,  and  1 
set  to  work  at  once,  as  I  am  going  to  tell  you  in  this  letter. 
I  would  rather  not  hav.  \  scene  and  a  viva  voce  explanation 
after  your  blood  and  thunder  address  to  me  the  other  day, 
which  made  me  as  mad  as  blazes — an  improper  and  vulgar 
expression,  but  it  conveys  the  idea  strongly. 

"  This  was  it.  I  say  I  saw  you  come  home  knocked  up, 
and  1  hadn't  been  living  so  long  in  the  world  without  un 
derstanding  that  you  wanted  to  have  some  pursuit — some 
object.  I'm  thirty  large  odd,  sir,  nearly  forty,  in  fact — 
don't  mention  it  among  the  ladies — and  in  that  time  I  had 
gathered  some  ideas.  I  know  what  I  am  going  to  say  will 
make  you  mad,  by  Jove  !  but  what  do  I  care  ?  I  am  a  tri 
umphant  M.  D.,  and  if  the  patient  runs  the  physician  through 
the  gizzard  for  cauterizing  and  curing  him,  society  will 
frown  upon  the  act :  if  any  thing,  the  doctor's  reputation 
will  increase ! 

"  I  determined  from  that  very  interview  that  you  should 
go  back  to  your  passion  for  Clare  :  it  was  only  sleeping — I 
resolved  to  wake  it.  Being  engaged  to  Miss  Alethea,  who 
promises  to  make  a  respectable  and  moral  man  of  me — and 
I  only  hope  she  may  not  be  disappointed — I  had  a  natural 
disinclination  to  having  a  brother-in-law  who  would  go  about 
all  the  time  looking  like  a  thunder  cloud,  and  as  pale  as 
those  spirits  called  ghouls,  who  feed  on  human  flesh,  as  I 
have  read  somewhere  in  Shakespeare,  or  the  Dictionary — 
which  fact  makes  them  disagreeable  associates,  as  a  man 
never  can  feel  sure  that  they  are  not  anxious  to  eat  hiiii.  I 
resolved,  therefore  to  twist  you  round  my  thumb  and  I've 
done  it— triumphantly  !  I  dare  you  to  deny  it !  You  are 
at  this  moment  desperately  in  love  with  Clare  Lee — your 
boyish  adoration  was  not  a  shadow  to  it :  you  very  nearly 


268       DIAGNOSIS  AND  TREATMENT  OF  DR.  MORT-REYN  AfcD. 

eut  me  to  pieces  the  other  day  for  asking  what  kept  you 
from  visiting  her  !  Deny  it  if  you  dare — and  ah  !  my  dear 
boy,  here  is  the  agreeable  part,  what  will  make  your  vanity 
unbearable,  here  is  the  triumph  of  my  tactics :  she  loves 
you  !  she  does,  upon  my  soul ! 

"  But  let  me  proceed,  step  by  step,  by  G-eorge  !  I  know 
human  nature,  and  especially  woman  nature,  sir — I  am  mas 
ter  of  that :  they  can't  trap  me — not  they ;  but  my  know 
ledge  of  the  masculine  temperament  is  equally  profound.  I 
have  always  observed  that  men  and  women,  like  hounds,  run 
after  what  flies  from  them.  I  doubt  whether  even  my  dog 
Tinkle  would  grab  a  fox,  if  the  fox  came  and  sat  down 
quietly  by  him  and  said,  '  I  would  rather  be  grabbed  than 
not — grab  me,  old  fellow.'  I  know  Tinkle,  sir,  and  Tinkle 
would  reply,  '  Off  with  you,  you  are  a  disreputable  hen 
roost  thief:  I  won't  have  you  near  me  ! '  But  let  the  fox 
run,  and  look  !  Tinkle  will  run  him  until  his  tongue  hangs 
out  of  his  mouth  like  a  red  ribbon.  It's  just  so  with  men — 
and  you  are  no  exception.  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  you  began  to 
fall  back  in  love  with  Clare  the  moment  you  found,  or  rather 
thought,  she  was  running  from  you  into  my  arms.  That 
roused  you;  you  cursed  me  from  Dan  to  Beersheba  and 
back  again  for  a  false  friend ;  but  you  fell  a  victim  to  my 
artifice !  If  I  had  not  played  that  nice  little  trick,  what 
would  have  been  the  consequence  ?  Why  you  would  have 
found  that  Clare  loved  you  as  much  as  ever,  in  spite  of 
your  goings  on,  because  she  has  forgiven  you  :  and  you 
would  have  dawdled  over  there  once  a  week  or  so,  and  come 
back  as  dull  as  ever,  and  drawled  '  yes,  yes,  a  nice  girl,  very 
agreeable,  fond  of  me — but  I'm  done  with  women ! '  Nothing, 
sir,  would  have  come  of  it.  But,  now !  what  did  I  do  ? 
Why,  I  sacrificed  myself  on  the  altar  of  friendship,  like  a 
hero :  I  bore  your  murderous  looks — I  declined  to  see  your 
fireball  eyes,  I  took  no  notice  of  your  tones  of  voice.  I 
practised  on  you,  sir,  and  I  twisted  you  over  my  thumb — I 
made  you  jealous  — I  told,  on  a  moderate  calculation,  one 
thousand  lies  about  myself  and  Clare,  which  lies,  as  an 
honorable  man,  you  are  bound  to  take  upon  yourself — they 
having  been  told  in  your  service.  I  then  took  up  a  largo 
portion  of  my  valuable  time  in  praising  you  at  Riverhead. 
The  lies  I  told  you  were  nothing  to  \vhat  I  told  Clare :  I 


DIAGNOSIS  AND  TREATMENT  Of*  DR.  \tORT-REYNARD.       269 

revelled  in  the  imaginary,  sir — I  made  you  out  the  greatest 
hero  of  modern  times — I  said  you  were  a  saint,  for  which 
heaven  torgive  me :  I  did  what  every  man  is  conscientiously 
bound  to  do  for  his  friend — in  vulgar  and  deplorably  coarse 
phrase,  I  plastered  you,  sir. 

"  I  made  Clare  believe  that  you  were  dying  of  love  for 
Henrietta — this  was  to  put  her  on  her  guard  ;  after  that,  as 
she  was  a  woman,  I  defied  her  to  do  more  than  speak  to  you. 
Her  pride  kept  her  from  showing  that  she  cared  for  you ;  I 
tricked  her  admirably. 

"  Having  worked  my  diabolical  and  disgraceful  scheme 
up  thus,  I  carried  it  on — I  revelled  in  it — you  had  a  spice 
of  that  the  other  day  when  you  boiled  over;  and  that  really 
made  me  angry;  by  Jove  !  I  could  have  cut  your  throat  then, 
and  afterwards  overwhelmed  you,  and  mortified  you,  with 
telling  you  all  I  had  done  for  you.  I  persist  in  saying  that 
my  triumph  is  complete.  By  George  !  I  admire  myself. 

"  And  now,  presume  to  quarrel  if  you  dare,  with  all  this; 
it  was  well  meant,  and  you  know  it  has  turned  out  as  I  say. 
Pardon  your  old  friend  Jack,  my  boy,  and  acknowledge  the 
elevation  of  his  moral  character.  Go  and  tell  Clare  you 
love  her,  and  don't  fear  that,  when  you  have  explained  all, 
she  will  discard  you.  She  loves  you,  by  Jove  !  in  a  way 
that  makes  me  desirous  of  standing  in  your  shoes  :  that  is  to 
say,  that  the  sentiment  I  have  inspired  Alethea  with  is  much 
more  moderate  and  dignified. 

"  The  game's  afoot,  my  boy ;  go  it ! 

"JACK  HAMILTON." 

Mr.  Effingham  uttered  a  second  long-drawn  sigh,  and  rose 
like  Columbus  when  the  New  World  dawned  upon  him. 

And  in  an  hour  they  stood  together  by  those  two  trees 
planted  in  their  childhood,  now  so  far  away,  but  shrined  as  a 
jewel  in  their  heart  of  hearts.  And  again  he  pointed  to  the 
trees,  and  spoke  of  that  bright  childhood,  and  his  sufferings 
since  then,  and  all  the  misconception  which  had  cleared 
away  as  a  cloud  passes  from  the  sun,  and  leaves  all  bright 
again,  and  full  of  warmth,  and  hope,  and  joy. 

And,  overhead,  the  oriole's  song  sprang  upon  the  air,  but 
could  not  match  the  music  of  her  voice ;  as  none  of  those 
bright  beautiful  red  buds  of  spring  beneath  their  feet  could 


270  ON    A    MAT    EVENING. 

hold  comparison  with  the  bright  rosy  cheek  which  lay  upon 
his  bosom.  The  soft  blue  eyes  were  turned  up  to  his  own  • 
thenceforth,  his  heaven  was  clear. 


CHAPTER     XLV. 

ON  A  MAT  EVENING. 

THE  voice  was  like  a  fairy's ;  all  the  old  Hall  rang  with  it, 
and  the  bright-winged  birds  without  laughed  gayly  for  pure, 
honest,  artist-joy  at  hearing  it.  Kate  almost  excelled  her 
self;  but  yet  it  was  plainly  without  thought  she  sang,  com 
ing  along  from  the  staircase,  tripping  toward  the  portico  in 
the  mild,  tender  evening. 

Upon  that  portico — the  portico  of  Effingham  Hall — sat 
several  of  the  personages  who  have  illustrated  this  history — 
contributing  their  gay  utterances  and  honest  countenances  to 
the  narrative. 

The  Captain  sat  there,  merrily  laughing  with  Miss  Hen 
rietta,  who.  ever  and  anon,  tossed  her  bright  laughing  head, 
scattering  the  snowy  powder  through  the  sun-flushed  atmos 
phere,  as  her  admirer — nay,  her  lord  to  be — uttered  some  of 
his  jovial  and  heretical  sentiments  on  the  subject  of  the  fair 
«ex.  As  for  the  Captain,  he  was  plainly  in  a  very  joyous 
mood,  and  vented  more  morbleus  than  ever  graced  that 
ditty  of  the  youthful  poet,  chronicling  the  journey  to  Mos 
cow. 

Near  them  sat — mirabtle  dictu — Lanky  and  his  mis 
tress.  This  was  a  freak  of  the  Captain,  who,  passing  by  the 
Oldfield  school  in  his  fine  chariot,  had  discovered  Lanky 
holding  a  confidential  interview  with  Donsy  after  school 
under  an  elm ;  and  so,  addressing  the  astonished  Corydon 
by  the  name  of  "  villain,"  brought  him — nothing  loth — and 
Donsy  with  him,  to  the  Hall ,  it  being  understood  that  the 
chariot  would  have  to  return  by  nightfall  round  by  Williams- 
burg.  Lanky  looked  amazed  when  he  was  spoken  to,  and 
shook  his  pine  knot  head  unconsciously,  and  regarded  his  huge 
feet  and  striped  stockings  with  the  air  of  a  bewildered  scar 


ON   A  MAT    EVENING.  271 

Muouch,  as  the  Captain  afterwards  confidentially  informed 
him.  As  for  Donsy,  she  was  a  very  quiet,  well-bred  little 
lady,  and  answered  everybody  with  soft  courtesy  and  sim 
plicity.  She  was  clad  simply  but  very  neatly,  and  seemed 
to  wish  to  be  away  with  Lanky  laughing  and  talking. 

Behind  all  sat  Mr.  Effingham  and  Clare — silent ;  gazing 
upon  the  fair  spring  sunset.  It  was  not  plain  at  first  where 
the  soft  little  hand  of  Clare  had  betaken  itself;  but  this 
mystery  upon  a  nearer  scrutiny  was  soon  explained.  It 
rested  in  his  own. 

Lastly,  the  squire  read  his  brown, heavy- typed  "  Gazette," 
and  grumbled  at  his  Excellency ;  and  from  time  to  time 
rolled  back  his  wristbands  and  looked  out  upon  the  fields, 
and  spoke  to  Miss  Alethea  near. 

So  they  sat,  when  Kate,  singing  like  a  bird,  came  to  them  ; 
and  behind  her,  Will — Will,  with  devoted  love;  Will,  with 
perfect  abnegation  of  his  personal  identity ;  Will,  devoured 
by  his  tender  and  everlasting  devotion,  which  caused  him  to 
blush,  and  cast  beseeching  glances,  and  extend  his  arms,  and 
only  grasp  the  air.  The  rustle  of  a  document  shrined  in  his 
bosom — so  to  speak — however,  consoled  him.  And  drawing 
forth  the  true  love  indenture,  he  threw  his  eyes  upon 
that  fascinating  document,  and  seeing  the  signature,  was 
comforted. 

Kate  put  her  arms  round  Mr.  Effingham's  neck,  covered 
his  eyes  with  her  fingers,  and  his  face  was  wrinkled  into  a 
smile.  He  guesses  very  soon  who  it  is ;  and  she  entreats 
him  and  cousin  Clare  to  come  and  see  her  fine  new  book, 
given  her  by  Willie. 

They  go  into  the  library  and  admire  the  book  :  and  Kate, 
admiring  it  more,  and  clasping  it  to  her  breast,  runs  to  show 
it  to  Captain  Waters  and  cousin  Henrietta ;  still  singing, 
ever  singing.  » 

The  light  of  the  dying  sun  streams  through  the  tall,  old 
windows  on  them,  and  the  hand  still  nestles  in  his  own. 

They  stand  before  the  fireplace  and  gaze  into  each  other's 
faces,  and  unspeakable  happiness  lights  up  the  tender  lips  of 
Clare,  the  pale  brow  of  her  lover. 

Again  she  speaks,  in  her  low,  tender  voice,  of  all  that 
past  which  now  is  but  a  dream  to  them — almost  a  marvel 
Again,  she  tells  him  how  she  had  thought  of  him  through 


272  THE   HURRICANE    COMMENCES. 

all ;  and  even  when  her  rebellious  woman's  nature  filled  her 
heart  with  bitterness  toward  him,  and  with  resolutions  never  to 
look  upon  him  more,  how  still  the  old  childhood  had  risen  up 
again,  and  how  her  feelings  had  all  changed,  and  bitterness 
gave  way  to  pity  for  the  wan  face  she  had  heard  of,  pity 
finally  to  a  love  more  deep  than  ever — what  she  speaks  of  now 

And  so  the  sunset  dies  away  in  rosy  splendor,  laughing 
through  the  woods  :  flaming  on  windows,  gilding  every  brook  ; 
and  streaming  on  the  gothic  bookcases,  and  old  carven 
chairs,  and  on  them  as  they  stand  before  the  fireplace,  and 
the  portrait. 

And  gazing  upon  that  portrait,  the  man's  heart  is  melted 
in  his  breast,  and  tears  come  to  his  eyes ;  and  his  heart  is 
full  of  holy  love,  and  on  his  lips  trembles  a  word  which  is 
addressed  to  one  far  from  him,  past  the  sunset — "  mother." 

He  draws  her  head  down  on  his  bosom,  and  then  point 
ing  to  the  picture,  tells  how  he  had  thought  to  die  when  she 
died ;  his  dear  mother,  now  an  angel  up  in  heaven  ;  but  that 
God  had  let  him  live  to  cry  for  her  like  a  little  child,  and  pray 
to  be  united  to  her  once  again ;  and  now  to  have  a  bosom  on 
which  even  such  tears  as  these  might  be  wept  trustingly, 
without  fear,  ever. 

And  so  the  sunset  streams  upon  them,  going  far  away , 
and  as  the  red  light  dies,  he  draws  her  closer  to  him ;  and 
his  hand  smooths  her  hair ;  and  pressing  on  the  pure  white 
forehead  a  long,  tranquil  kiss,  he  murmurs  "  Clare  1  " 


CHAPTEK    XLVI 

i  THE  HUEEICANE  COMMENCE& 

OUR  comedy  is  almost  finished.  Having  conducted  Captain 
Ralph  and  Lanky,  Mr.  Effingham  and  his  friend  Hamilton, 
to  say  nothing  of  Henrietta,  Clare,  Miss  Alethea  and  Donsy, 
even  Will  and  Kate,  very  nearly  to  the  hymeneal  altar,  the 
history  pauses,  like  a  wind  which,  rising  in  a  whisper,  swells 
and  ever  grows,  and  then  dies  away  in  silent  murmurs  in  the 
distance. 


THE    HURRICANE    COMMENCES.  273 

But  there  are  necessary  to  the  narrative  one  or  two  more 
scenes,  which  we  must  briefly  speak  of. 

All  Williamsburg  is  in  terrific  commotion  ;  a  moral  storm 
is  raging  there,  and  men  look  about  them,  measuring  each 
other  with  doubtful  eyes.  At  the  office  of  the  "  Virginia 
Gazette,"  an  enormous  crowd  is  collected,  and  within,  are 
heard  the  presses  rolling  rapidly,  and  vainly  striving  to 
strike  off  sufficient  copies  of  the  journal,  to  supply  the 
eager  hands  held  out  to  take  them. 

The  street  is  full  of  people  passing  to  and  fro;  the 
crowd  undulates ;  a  murmur  rises  which  at  times  swells  into 
a  great  shout. 

Suddenly  the  multitude  raises  its  startled  head.  A  bell 
begins  to  toll — slowly,  solemnly,  with  a  melancholy  ex 
pression,  which  seems  to  echo  the  feeling  of  the  crowd. 

The  explanation  of  the  gathering,  of  the  demand  for 
copies  of  the  journal,  of  the  tolling  bell,  is  simple.  The 
vessel  lying  yonder  at  the  port  of  York,  and  just  from 
London,  has  brought  the  intelligence  of  the  passage  of  the 
STAMP  ACT. 

For  this  reason  the  crowd  murmurs,  and  stretches  out  its 
Briarean  hands  towards  the  printing  office,  where  an  ad 
ditional  number  has  been  hastily  composed,  containing  the 
provisions  of  the  act. 

As  they  receive  the  papers  unfolded,  they  hastily  glue 
their  eyes  to  them,  and  with  dozens  of  persons  looking 
over  their  shoulders,  scan  the  ominous  words.  Upon  a 
barrel,  at  some  distance,  is  mounted  a  man  who  reads  to  thai 
portion  of  the  crowd  next  him,  the  contents  of  his  paper. 

The  population  of  the  town  flow  backward  and  forward, 
as  the  blood  flows  in  the  veins  and  arteries.  But  the  office 
of  the  journal  is  the  heart,  to  which  all  the  streams  return, 
from  which  the  flood  pours,  ever  making  way  for  others. 

The  crowd  is  for  the  most  part  composed  of  men  who 
seem  to  be  of  humble  rank,  such  as  are  not  accustomed  to 
criticise  very  strongly  any  acts  of  government ;  but  among 
these  rude  forms  are  seen  great  numbers  of  the  richly  clad 
members  of  the  House  of  Burgesses,  whose  powdered  heads 
and  embroidered  doublets  present  a  strong  contrast  to  the 
coarse  fustian  of  the  commoners. 

The  faces  of  the  burghers  are  troubled — doubtful ;  thej 
26 


274  THE    HURRICANE    COMMENCES. 

are  to  act,  not  merely  murmur,  as  the  popular  voice  mur 
murs ;  and  the  crisis  is  enough  to  try  the  soul.  On  ono 
side,  England  with  her  tremendous  strength,  her  overwhelm 
ing  power  by  land  and  sea,  and  her  immemorial  prestige  of 
sovereignty ;  upon  the  other,  a  few  weak  colonies,  scattered 
over  a  wild  continent,  and  scarcely  knowing  each  other — or 
whether  if  one  rises  in  opposition,  the  rest  will  not  march 
to  put  her  down.  On  one  side  an  act  of  Parliament  armed 
with  all  the  weight  of  a  solemn  resolution  of  that  great 
government  j  upon  the  other,  a  mere  popular  sentiment, 
which  only  stammers  "  Liberty — the  liberty  of  free  born 
Englishmen  !  " 

And  this  very  day  the  trial  comes  : — for  Governor  Fau- 
quier  will  open  the  House  of  Burgesses,  and  officially  com 
municate  to  that  body  the  intelligence  of  the  passage  of  the 
act : — and  they  must  at  once  make  submission  or  throw  down 
the  gauntlet  of  defiance. 

The  crowd,  as  they  respectfully  make  way  for  them,  follow 
them  with  their  eyes : — they  seek  to  read  in  the  faces  of  the 
burghers  what  reply  they  deign  to  make  to  his  serene  Excel 
lency. 

Those  men  whom  we  have  seen  at  the  Governor's  ball 
formerly,  pass  through  the  crowd — with  animated  faces,  eagle 
eyes.  That  stately  Roman  head  stooping  forward  upon  the 
shoulders  to  which  a  hand  in  a  black  bandage  is  raised  from 
time  to  time,  towers  above  the  press,  and  with  clear  strong 
eyes,  surveys  the  excited  throng  with  philosophic  interest. 

The  bland  lover  of  Anacreon  reads  hastily  his  journal. 

The  benevolent  looking  gentleman  whose  silvery  voice 
we  have  alluded  to,  whom  we  have  seen  lately  at  the  mansion 
of  the  soldier  Captain  Waters,  raises  his  serene  face  above 
the  crowd,  and  one  hand  placed  upon  his  heart  seems  to  be 
saying  to  that  heart,  "  Be  calm — rashness  is  worst,  not  best 
— wait  for  the  hour — be  still — be  moderate — exhaust  'the 
means  of  protest — until  all  is  trampled  on  do  not  strike  !  " 

And  there  beside  him  is  the  man  who  has  uttered  many 
words  in  this  hittory :  who  eternally  brooding  with  fiery 
soul  over  one  grand  idea,  now  revels  in  the  rising  storm,  and 
feels  his  heart  bound  at  the  muttering  tempest.  He  wraps 
his  old  red  cloak  around  him ;  elbows  his  way  with  scant 
courtesy  from  group  to  group  •  listens  to  every  word ;  gaugei 


THE   HURRICANE    COMMENCES.  27& 

the  height  of  the  flood  as  it  rises  and  begins  to  foam,  and  es 
tiinates  the  strength  which  it  will  finally  possess,  wheu,  strik 
ing  the  great  dyke  which  opposes  it,  the  water  shall  break 
loose.  He  smiles  grimly  from  time  to  time,  and  utters  de 
tached  sentences  in  his  vigorous,  somewhat  affected  patois, 
which  very  plainly  is  meant  only  to  open  his  way  to  the  rude 
natures  gathering  around  him. 

His  words — even  his  chance  words — burn  :  for  they  have 
fire  in  them.  He  condenses  voluraes  into  a  sentence,  and 
utters  bitter  taunts. 

u  Strip  your  shoulders,  strip  1 "  he  says,  "  the  lash  ia 
ready — you  are  slaves  1  " 

And  to  others : 

"Go  crawl  and  grovel  in  the  dirt  1  who  knows  but  your 
masters  may  take  pity  !  " 

And  each  of  these  words,  cold,  yet  fiery — calm,  yet 
stormy,  lashes  the  great  popular  commotion  into  huger 
waves,  from  which  gleam  bloodshot  eyes,  and  over  which  rise 
threatening  arms,  clenched  hands.  The  man  in  the  red 
cloak  moulds  the  common  mind  as  he  goes,  with  a  master 
hand — he  works  it  in  his  gra**p  like  moistened  clay :  he 
laughs  at  it,  and  taunts  it,  and  overwhelms  it  with  contemp 
tuous  sarcasms,  and  pushes  scornfully  aside  the  menacing 
breasts,  and  stands  the  very  impersonation  of  their  thoughts 
and  feelings,  with  a  grim  smile  on  his  lips,  a  lurid  fire  in  his 
eyes  which  makes  him  lord  of  them — lord  of  their  hearts 
and  arms. 

The  commotion  ever  rises  higher,  and  the  great  wave, 
extending  from  the  governor's  palace  to  the  capital,  the  whole 
length  of  Gloucester-street,  surges  to  and  fro,  and  breaks 
into  a  foam  of  cries  and  furious  gestures  everywhere.  And 
still  the  bell  tolls  mournfully,  and  ever  and  anon  rise  those 
shouts  which  mount  to  the  gathering  clouds  above. 

But  now  another  sound  startles  the  multitude.  A  can 
non  roars  from  the  palace,  sending  its  hoarse  sombre  voice 
upon  the  wind  which  now  begins  to  rise.  And  then  a  drum 
is  heard. 

The  governor  has  set  out  from  the  palace  for  the  capital, 
there  to  open  the  House  of  Burgesses.  Before  him  ride  his 
body-guard  with  drawn  sabres,  and  the  face  of  the  old  man 
is  seen  through  the  window  of  his  splendid  chariot,  which  if 


276  THE  HURRICANE  COMMENCES. 

drawn  slowly  onward  by  six  glossy  horses,  who  toss  theii 
resetted  heads  and  push  aside  the  muttering  crowd  with 
their  chests. 

The  crowd  mutters  inarticulately  :  gazes  sidewise  at  the 
cortege  slowly  passing. 

The  governor  raises  his  head,  and  pointing  with  his  white, 
jewelled  finger  through  the  window  of  the  chariot,  says  to 
one  of  the  gentlemen  who  ride  with  him  : 

"  What  is  that  bell  ?  " 

"  They  began  tolling  it  upon  the  intelligence  this  morn 
ing,  your  Excellency." 

The  governor  shakes  his  head  and  sinks  back  in  his 
chariot,  muttering,  "  Well,  well,  the  die  is  thrown !  " 

The  crowd  mutter  too,  and  with  ever  increasing  rage : 
the  cavalcade  is  followed  by  groans  and  murmurs  which  are 
menacing  murmurs. 

So  it  continues  all  day  :  the  chariot  goes  slowly  back 
again  under  the  now  lurid  sky,  and  disappears  within  the 
palace  gates. 

The  crowd  is  increasing  even  yet :  the  windows  of  the 
houses  are  filled  with  the  excited  faces  of  women,  who  ex 
change  whispers  and  wave  their  handkerchiefs  to  those  they 
recognize  in  the  tumultuous  throng  below. 

That  throng,  like  a  forest  trembling  at  the  approaching 
whirlwind,  moans  and  sighs  and  utters  a  crackling  noise  like 
grating  boughs  :  a  rumbling  like  breakers  on  the  coast. 

The  Raleigh  tavern  is  full  of  heads.  Men  pass  to  and 
fro,  and  a  meeting  is  held  in  the  Apollo  room,  where  many 
words  are  uttered.  History  has  spoken  of  the  place,  the 
words,  the  men. 

Without,  the  tumult  increases  always  as  the  night  draws 
on. 

The  man  in  the  red  cloak  is  still  passing  from  group  to 
group,  and  when  he  leaves  each  group,  it  utters  murmurs, 
menaces  and  curses  ;  he  is  master  of  the  storm,  and  revels 
in  it. 

On  the  great  square  especially  the  crowd  is  densest,  and 
sweeps  more  irresistibly  than  elsewhere  from  side  to  side, 
swaying  about  and  uttering  hoarse  cries.  A  dozen  speakers, 
mounting  one  after  another  upon  the  temporary  platform  • 
near  the  centre,  strive  vainly  to  be  heard. 


THE   HURRICANE    COMMENCES.  27' 

The  material  storm  rising  in  the  lurid  sky  above,  from 
which  thunder  begins  to  mutter,  might  permit  them  to  be 
heard ;  the  moral  tornado  is  too  furious. 

Suddenly,  a  half  silence  falls  upon  the  multitude,  and 
they  listen  to  a  man  wrapped  in  an  old  red  cloak,  whose  face 
awes  them  :  the  time  has  come. 

As  he  speaks,  with  awkward  and  slovenly  gestures,  in  his 
rude,  harsh  voice,  the  multitude  are  silent ;  they  only  look 
at  his  eyes.  Those  eyes  are  fine.  He  rises  in  height ;  he 
thunders  ;  he  lightens  :  the  crowd  shudder,  and  rise  up  and 
shout. 

"  They  are  there  at  York  1  "  he  thunders,  with  a  curling 
lip  ;  "  are  you  afraid  ?  " 

And,  descending  from  the  platform,  he  hears  a  roar 
which  drowns  the  thunder  overhead. 

Yes,  the  blank  stamps  are  in  the  vessel  at  the  port  of 
York,  and  fifty  horsemen  whirl  out  of  the  town.  Hundreds 
of  men  follow  on  foot,  shouting ;  they  will  have  them  ;  they 
will  burn  them  here  before  the  palace  of  the  royal  governor. 

The  man  in  the  red  cloak  wraps  himself  up  grimly  and 
pushes  through  the  crowd  ;  he  can  wait. 

He  approaches  the  Raleigh ;  he  raises  his  eyes :  he  sees 
standing  before  him  a  man  of  the  people,  holding  a  staff  in 
his  hand,  and  covered  with  dust.  This  man's  eyes  have  the 
expression  of  a  madman's  ;  his  face  is  pale,  his  lips  are  white. 
He  gazes  at  the  stranger ;  he  scarcely  hears  him  speak. 

"  Well  met  1 "  the  stranger  says ;  "  see  the  storm  which 
I  spoke  of !  " 

The  wayfarer  says  nothing. 

"  You  miss  a  great  feast,"  the  stranger  goes  on,  grimly ; 
"  you  are  too  happy  in  your  mountain." 

"  I  am  there  no  longer." 

"  Your  wife — " 

"  I  have  none." 

And  the  face  flushes  passionately,  and  two  bitter  tears 
roll  down  the  pale,  wan  cheeks. 

"  No  wife  1 "  the  stranger  says,  looking  at  him. 

"  God  took  her  to  himself." 

And  bending  down,  he  uttered  a  moan,  and  remained 
ailcnt — pale,  gloomy,  and  despairing. 

"  Rouse  !  rouse  !  "  the  stranger  says,  "  it  is  not  the  time 
to  grieve  J " 


278  THE   HURRICANE   COMMENCES. 

The  wayfarer  looks  at  him,  and  his  eyes  make  the  stran. 
ger  tremble. 

11 1  am  calm,"  he  says. 

"  Come  in  here  with  me,"  says  the  stranger,  "  we  must 
wait." 

And  they  enter  the  Raleigh. 

Night  draws  on,  lurid  and  tempestuous ;  the  sky  is  dark 
with  clouds,  from  which  issue  thunder  and  lightning.  The 
wind  moans. 

The  crowd  has  not  moved,  and  is  almost  silent,  until  a 
light  appears  approaching  from  the  side  of  York. 

They  shout  then,  and  surge  backward  and  forward, 
tumultuously  going  to  meet  the  light. 

Through  the  press  comes  slowly  onward  a  wagon,  whose 
six  horses  foam  at  the  mouth  and  pant,  covered  with  sweat. 
They  have  galloped  all  the  way  from  Yorktown. 

The  wagon  pauses  in  the  middle  of  the  square,  and  is 
buried  almost  beneath  the  surge  of  men  who  throw  them 
selves  upon  it. 

The  horses,  unhitched  hastily,  are  lashed,  and  disappear 
like  shadows,  but  shadows  which  overthrew  men  as  they 
ploughed  their  furious  way  into  the  darkness. 

The  wagon  is  rifled  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  The 
boxes  containing  the  blank  stamps  are  hurled  out  and  piled 
into  a  mass.  The  crowd  utters  a  hoarse  shout,  and  the 
torch  is  applied. to  them. 

The  flame  licks  and  clasps  them,  winding  round  and 
through  the  pile  of  half  broken  boxes.  Then  it  soars  aloft, 
and  throws  its  glare  upon  the  crowd,  whose  faces  but  now 
were  concealed  by  the  darkness — faces  full  of  rage, — rude 
faces  of  the  common  people,  who  hear  still  that  thunder  of 
the  stranger,  louder  than  the  storm  about  to  burst. 

Then  it  is  that  they  see  two  figures  on  the  platform ; 
and  they  shout. 

One  is  a  man  in  a  red  cloak ;  the  other  younger,  with  a 
pale,  fiery  face,  which  makes  them  shudder.  The  latter 
speaks ;  the  man  in  the  red  cloak  listens. 

The  thunder  roars,  but  it  does  not  drown  that  stranger's 
wild  voice,  which  sounds  like  a  wail  from  the  other  world. 
The  fire  throws  a  crimson  glare  upon  all  faces ;  his  is  pale. 

He  strikes  them  with  his  burning  words  as  with  hot  fire 
brands  ;  ha  ploughs  his  way  through  the  bosoms  of  the 


HIE    HURRICANE    COMMENCES  279 

surging  multitude  with  a  tremendous,  gigantic  passion ;  he 
hurls  upon  them  an  eloquence  ,which  makes  them  shudder. 
He  arraigns  England  at  the  bar  of  eternal  justice  and  brands 
her ;  he  lashes  her  with  a  whip  of  fire  ;  he  plunges  the  weapon 
into  her  breast,  and  the  blood  spouts  hot  and  gurgling.  The 
great  multitude  hold  their  breath — then  roar. 

The  speaker  sways  to  and  fro,  with  his  hair  streaming 
from  his  brow,  his  neck  bare,  his  eyes  full  of  blood,  his  lipa 
stained  with  a  red  foam. 

He  pours  upon  them  a  flood  of  passion  which  overwhelms 
them — he  rides  upon  the  wave  of  popular  commotion  like  a 
whirlwind ;  he  trembles,  and  they  tremble  with  him ;  he 
shouts,  and  they  utter  a  roar  which  drowns  the  storm. 

He  raises  his  clenched  hands  to  heaven,  and  with  an  over 
powering,  terrible  vehemence,  which  burns,  and  strikes,  and 
obliterates,  speaks  of  the  grinding  oppression  of  all  ages ; — 
facts  glow  and  take  vitality  under  his  quivering  hands ;  they 
blaze  like  the  roaring  flame  before  him. 

He  staggers  with  the  gigantic  grandeur  of  his  passion ; 
raves  almost  with  his  writhing  lips,  but  with  a  madness 
which  bends  all  down  with  its  terrible,  inexorable  method. 
He  totters  from  side  to  side,  and  again  rises. 

The  multitude  look  at  him  with  pale  faces,  then  faces 
flushed  with  wrath,  terror,  and  indignation ;  and  every  word 
he  utters  burns  into  them  like  a  hot  iron,  leaving  an  inef 
faceable  impression  upon  every  heart.  He  speaks  the 
thoughts,  the  feelings,  and  the  passions  of  them  all. 

And  as  he  raises  his  pale  brow  to  the  storm,  his  fiery  eyes, 
his  bleeding  lips,  a  sudden  flash  of  lightning  blinds  all  eyes 
with  its  terrible  radiancy,  lighting  up  tree  and  house,  and  all 
the  great  surging  crowd ;  and  then  comes  a  crash  of  thunder 
like  a  thousand  cannon,  which  seems  to  trample  out  the  very 
fire,  for  the  flame  crumbles  into  gloom,  and  disappears. 

Pale,  overwhelmed,  and  staggering,  his  mouth  filled 
with  bloody  foam,  the  speaker  falls  back  fainting  into  the 
outstretched  arms  of  the  man  in  the  red  cloak,  who  holds 
him  on  his  breast. 

"  Good  1 "  murmured  Patrick  Henry,  smiling  grimly 
'*  the  Revolution  is  begun  1 " 


280      THE  AUTHOR  OMITS  DESCRIBING  FOUR  WEDDINGS. 


CHAPTER    XLYII. 

IN  WHICH  THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  MS.  OMITS  DESCRIBING  FOUR 
WEDDINGS. 

"  I  NEED  not  add  to  this  history  a  description  of  the  merry 
wedding  parties  which  ere  long  filled  three  houses  with  mer 
riment  and  rejoicing. 

"  Those  particular  scenes  are  much  more  agreeable  to 
attend  than  to  describe ;  and  perhaps  all  description  would 
only  blur  the  picture  of  those  jubilees,  full  of  wild  revelry, 
as  were  all  such  i1  &ne  ancient  colony  and  Old  Dominion — 
indeed,  are  at  the  clay  we  live  in. 

"  Perhaps  the  saddest  bridegroom  was  our  friend  the 
Captain,  whose  honest  face  could  not  look  very  cheerful 
when  his  brother's  pale  cheeks  came  to  his  memory,  and 
when  the  ban  pire  was  away.  But  he  comforted  himself 
with  the  thought  that  he  would  have  both  of  them  at  '  Flod- 
den' — the  old  man  at  least,  certainly, — where  the  best  cham 
ber  in  the  mansion  was  set  apart  for  the  old  fisherman. 

"  Mr.  Effingham,  as  we  may  imagine,  was  radiant  with 
joy ;  and  it  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say,  that  Clare  was 
quite  as  happy.  The  sisters  were  married  on  the  same  day  ; 
and,  at  the  Hall,  Miss  Alethea  gave  her  hand  to  Mr.  Jack 
Hamilton,  almost  at  the  same  moment.  That  unconquer 
able  bachelor  was  fairly  conquered  and  enslaved. 

"  Our  friend  Lanky  married  Donsy  soon  afterwards,  and 
the  Captain  kept  his  promise ;  and  the  happy  young  couple 
took  up  their  abode  at  the  cottage.  Lanky  often  told  his 
wife  that  he  owed  his  success  in  gaining  her  a.ffections  to  the 
advice  of  the  Captain,  which  had  led  him  to  don  those  mili 
tary  accoutrements  which  had  made  such  an  impression  upon 
her  heart.  But  Donsy  to  the  last  denied  that  such  was  the 
fact ;  and  was  not  even  convinced  when  Lanky's  pine-knot 
head  was  sawed  argumentatively  from  a  point  due  north 
east  to  the  opposite  portion  of  the  compass. 

"  Our  comedy  is  now  quite  ended.  Having  listened  for 
mauy  hours  to  those  ante-revolutionary  voices  speaking  of 
themselves,  and  telling  us  what  thoughts,  and  schemes,  and 
hopes,  and  fears  occupied  them  then,  we  may  go  out  into  the 


BPILOGUE.  28  I 

broad  sunny  world  to-day,  no  worse  for  having  heard  those 
sincere  utterances.  The  past  has  tried  to  speak,  and  the  poor 
chronicler  has  written  down  what  the  low  voice  dictated. 
If  there  is  any  good  in  what  he  has  placed  on  the  page — a 
scene  of  conquered  passion,  or  pure  love,  denying  self,  his 
hours  have  not  been  thrown  away.  And  now,  the  history 
being  ended,  be  will  rest.** 


EPILOGUE. 

IT  was  one  of  those  pure  days  which,  born  of  spring,  seem 
almost  to  rejoice  like  living  things  in  the  bright  flowers  and 
tender  buds : — and  she  was  failing. 

All  the  mountain  winds  were  faintly  blowing  on  the 
smiling  trees,  and  on  the  white  calm  brow  of  one  who  breathed 
the  pure  delightful  airs  of  opening  spring,  before  she  went 
away  to  breathe  the  airs  of  that  other  land,  so  far  away, 
where  no  snows  come,  or  frost,  or  hail,  or  rain ;  but  spring 
reigns  ever,  sublimated  by  the  light  which  shines  on  figures 
in  white  garments  round  the  central  throne. 

She  heard  those  figures  calling,  calling,  calling,  with 
their  low  soft  voices  full  of  love  and  hope ;  calling  ever  to 
her  in  the  purple  twilight  dying  o'er  the  world ;  rejoicing 
every  one  that  she  was  coming. 

She  looked  upon  the  faces  seen  thi>?ugh  mist  around  her, 
and  besought  them  smiling,  not  »/»  weep  for  her,  but  look  to 
the  bright  land  where  she  was  going — for  her  faith  was 
strong.  She  begged  them  to  take  tender  care  of  the  flower 
which  lay  but  now  upon  her  bosom,  and  not  think  of  her. 
A  voice  had  told  her  in  the  night  that  she  was  waited  for : 
and  now  the  sun  was  fading  in  the  west,  and  she  must  go. 

Alcestis-like  she  kissed  them  on  their  brows  and  pointed 
to  the  skies :  the  time  had  almost  come. 

She  looked  with  dim  faint  eyes,  as  in  a  dream,  upon  that 
past  which  now  had  flowed  from  her  and  left  her  pure : — 
she  saw  the  sunset  wane  away  and  die  above  the  rosy  head 
lands,  glooming  fast : — she  murmured  that  her  hope  was 
steadfast  ever ;  that  she  heard  the  angels ;  that  they  called 


282  EPILOGUE. 

to  her,  and  bade  her  say  farewell  to  all  that  was  around  hei 
on  this  earth,  for  now  the  expected  time  had  come. 

The  tender  sunset  faded  far  away,  and  over  the  great 
mountains  drooped  the  spangled  veil,  with  myriads  of  worlds 
all  singing  as  her  heart  was  singing  now.  She  saw  the  rosy 
flush  go  far  away,  and  die  away,  and  leave  the  earth :  and 
then  the  voice  said  Come  ! 

She  saw  a  cross  rise  from  the  far  bright  distance 
and  a  bleeding  form :  she  saw  the  heavenly  vision  slowly 
move,  and  ever  nearer,  nearer,  brighter  with  the  light  of 
heaven.  She  saw  it  now  before  her,  and  her  arms  were 
opened.  The  grand  eternal  stars  came  out  above — the  3un- 
set  died  upon  her  brow — she  clasped  the  cross  close  to  her 
bosom — and  so  fell  asleep. 


1DR 


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